Temptation, Sin, and Cotton Candy
by kungfububblegum
Summary: The Battle at Hogwarts has ended, Remus is once again a DADA professor, and Hermione is finishing her seventh year. He knows she's twenty years younger than him, but when she wears skirts like that how could any man blame him? Slight AU (Remus isn't dead, clearly).
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: __So this is mildly (well, what I consider mildly) AU. Remus and Tonks was never a thing, neither was poor Remus' untimely demise during the Battle at Hogwarts. Neither was Hermione and Ron. It's a couple years after the Battle, and Hogwarts is up and running again._

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Remus ran a tired hand through his sandy blonde hair. He wore a slight smile on his face as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the rare glimpse of London sun through the window as the train began to chug away from Platform 9 and ¾. He listened to the squeals of students greeting each other after time apart. A lot had happened since since he'd last been on that train... six years ago? It felt like it had been much longer since his last stint as a Hogwarts professor.

The changing of times made it possible for him to return to Hogwarts, even with his werewolf condition out in the open. In fact, recent progress in the Wolfsbane potion removed much of the stress and pain from his transformation, leaving him feeling healthier and younger than he had felt in years. It was with a start that Remus realized that the full moon was only two nights away- he could not remember ever before having forgotten when the next full moon was, even if it was only for a brief moment, as it had always been something in the back of his mind. He leaned back into his seat contentedly, looking forwards to the new year.

He felt like the tides had changed for the very first time in his life. Obviously, there were underlying prejudices that would linger, but that had been the least of Remus' worries for his entire life preceding the Battle, so he could deal with those. Going over his first lesson plans in his head he heard Hermione's voice in the corridor, and tried to remember the last time he had seen her. He realized it must have been at the Burrow, following the funerals and memorials for those lost in the Battle, so it had been over a year since he had seen the young witch.

She sounded like she was scolding a rather frisky third year couple in the train corridor, and deciding the youngsters could use a little slack, the professor stuck his head out of his compartment to give Hermione a hello. He looked towards the voices only to note that it was not actually Hermione doing the scolding at all, but he saw the back of a slender necked brunette, whose school skirt just lightly skimmed a pair of long, milky legs, with a tight little ass that made Remus want to go over and... He brought his head back into his compartment quickly. While that woman did not look like she could possibly be young enough to be a Hogwarts student, imagining things like _that _about any of his colleagues was not a good way to start his tenure at the school.

Leaning against the side of the compartment doorway, giving himself a stern talking to, he heard his name. He turned around to identify the source of the voice, to be greeted to the sight of Hermione's face. Hermione's face, attached to the tempting, distracting body he had seen disciplining the students earlier. Hermione's face, attached to a body wearing a skirt that was definitely shorter than seventh year skirts were supposed to be, and a shirt that was just a size too tight, hugging her cleavage snugly. Remus' eyes widened in what he hoped was an imperceptible manner, and he cleared his throat.

Following his eyes, Hermione hastened to explain herself, a slight blush creeping up her chest towards her cheeks.

"It's been so long since I wore the uniform in sixth year, and in all the hustle, I guess... I didn't think to look until this morning, which is so unlike me, and the only one I could find was the one from my second year. I cast as many Engorging Charms as I thought the fabric could take, but it still..." she trailed off, gesturing limply at her outfit, her eyes downcast, "I look ridiculous."

"Ridiculous isn't the word I would-" Remus cut himself off, clearing his throat ineffectively for the second time in his brief encounter with Hermione, trying to find a more appropriate direction to steer the conversation, "That is to say, uhm, it's not really that noticeable, I wouldn't worry about it." _Isn't noticeable? She just caught you staring, and that's what you chose to go with? _Remus swallowed. Since when had talking with Hermione been this hard? He had to change the topic to something less creepy, so Hermione would not go tell Minerva what an old pervert he was. While society's position on werewolves had lightened, he wasn't sure that the same held for their position on old perverts.

"Why don't you step inside?" Remus paused- he wasn't sure he'd hit the 'less-creepy' nail on the head. Take two... "I'd love to catch up. How are Harry and Ron?"

They sat across from each other, and Hermione smiled, considering the question as she watched the scenery whizz by through the window.

"They're doing well. Harry's finishing up Auror Training, and Ron is talking about doing something with George I believe. I think they might be discussing reopening the store, since Fred..." Hermione broke off, "I tried to convince them to finish their seventh years with me, but they were unsurprisingly devoid of interest."

"Was it a hard decision for you to make?"

"Of course not," Hermione gave Remus a look, "education has always been a top priority of mine. The War just took precedence, but now that it's all been settled... Professor McGonagall made me Head Girl," she added offhandedly, "I think it's in part to console me on the fact that I'm three years older than most of the students my year. At least I get my own dorm, which will be pleasant."

The pair chatted for the rest of the train ride, until Hermione announced that she had to go run the Prefects meeting. As she stood up, she knocked off the Daily Prophet on the seat next to her, and crouching down to pick it up, Remus noticed he had a clear line of sight down her shirt, and he lingered briefly, trying to pretend he did not enjoy the moment. He made sure to tear his eyes away before she looked up. As she made to leave the cabin, Remus decided that it was his duty as a professor to offer a solution to her clothing predicament.

"Hermione, if you'd like, you could, ah, borrow one of my shirts? Perhaps the fabric would lend itself better to shrinking charms than engorgement ones."

"But, Professor, then it wouldn't be a Standard Issue Women's Hogwarts Uniform Shirt! That's why I chose to..." realizing that Professor Lupin was suggesting that breaking protocol was preferable to her current situation, she closed her mouth, and flushed a deep pink. She hadn't thought she looked that bad in her uniform- in fact she thought she had looked a little- dare she say it- sexy. In fifth and sixth year, the other girls in her year had started shrinking their shirts and shortening their skirts, but Hermione had never taken to the habit. However, having had it thrust upon her, she had liked how it looked. In fact, when she first saw Remus's reaction, she had thought she had flustered him in a _good way_, but having him suggest she change seemed to imply the contrary. She changed her tone, acquiescing to his offer, "Yes, that would be much appreciated. Thank you, Professor."

Remus' thoughts were not quite as pure as Hermione had made them out to be- the little voice in the back of his head kept on reminding him how hot Hermione would look wearing his shirt. In fact, it was this little voice speaking out loud that suggested that she put it on first, then apply the shrinking charms- "so you can get a more exact fit" he explained. He stood up, reaching up into his trunk, and handed the shirt back to Hermione as he stuffed his other belongings back in.

_If he doesn't find me sexy, _Hermione thought, _then I supposed he won't mind if I change right here._ And in an act of defiance, (after sending a quick charm to the compartment window to be sure no one could see in) she pulled her shirt over her head, leaving her standing behind Remus wearing only a lacy black bra, her short skirt, and her knee high socks.

Hermione had been put in a funk earlier that week by Ronald, who had made a comment that had left her feeling decidedly unsexy. The trio had been discussing her return to Hogwarts, and Hermione had confided that she was nervous that other students would treat her weirdly, considering her age difference. She was worrying that she was too old to be one of the students, but too young to be considered a teacher, when Ron suggested that she'd always dressed, looked and acted like an old teacher anyways, so he doubted that any of the students would hesitate to consider her a teacher. This had not been the remark she had been looking for, and it had been on her mind all week.

After being unable to find her uniform, she suddenly decided to dress up a bit, donning her raciest lingerie, and pulling on the tiny uniform. She had even gone to the effort of putting on a little makeup and a few glamour charms. She was not sure what she had been expecting, but Remus' apparently nonplussed reaction was not what she had hoped for. _What, are you trying to seduce a professor?_ she asked herself. _No, I just wanted __**some **__reaction, that's all, _she argued.

After latching his trunk, Remus turned around to sit back down, half trying not to picture what Hermione would look like in his big shirt. He froze in a semi-seated position, as he processed the scene in front of him. Hermione stood half-naked, slowly unbuttoning his white shirt as she held it in her hands in front of her, in the skimpiest, sexiest bra imaginable. Remus could tell it was the fancy type of bra that could make anyone look sexy, but somehow seeing such a sexual piece of clothing on innocent Hermione Granger was one of the hottest things he had ever borne witness to. He let out a strained breath, and sat down, clenching his legs as he tried to stave off the erection that he felt growing.

"Hermione," he hissed, glancing at the windows, only to see them thankfully opaque and the door locked.

"Yes, Professor?" she blinked, playing innocent, trying not to smile at the rise she had gotten out of him. _This is fun,_ she thought. She was loving the look on his face, as he tried not to show any hint of interest.

"Miss Granger, please, put on the shirt. This is-" he thought 'highly inappropriate' sounded too harsh, because although it was, it wasn't like he wasn't enjoying the show (_although I really shouldn't be..._), and he felt he had also tempted fate by giving her one of his own shirts to put on, which, in hindsight was also out of line.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! You just told me to change shirts, and I simply thought that..."

Remus gave Hermione such a withering look that she started to regret her silly charade. She threw on the shirt, buttoning it up ten times faster than she had unbuttoned it, and forgetting to shrink it, she turned to rush out of the compartment.

A strong hand shot out, wrapping around her bicep before she unlocked the door, pulling her back. Her breath hitched, and she looked up, finding herself surprisingly close to her DADA professor. He stepped back quickly, and pulled out his wand.

"The shrinking charms? Without them, it, ah, looks as if, well... you leaving my compartment wearing my..." Remus didn't finish the thought, instead ran his wand along her arms and torso, artfully pulling in the shirt to fit her body, albeit less close of a fit than her earlier shirt.

Hermione did her best not to make eye contact, and as soon as he lowered his wand, she stepped out of the compartment, shutting the door, and stalked quickly to the prefect meeting.

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_A/N: __Please review, especially if you enjoyed and want more! And if you have some constructive criticism. _You know, reviews make the world go round!


	2. Chapter 2

Getting off the train, Hermione glanced around, looking for someone who might want to share a carriage with her, but didn't spot anyone. Most of the current seventh years had been fifth years while she was at school, those that weren't were sixth years. No one at school now had been her year. It had been two years since she had last been a student at Hogwarts, the first having been spent searching for Horcruxes. The second, as Hogwarts was being repaired and assessed from the inside out, she had spent with Harry and Ron, recovering after the war and the Battle of Hogwarts, going around meeting people at the Ministry, and settling down. Most other students who had not been involved in the war spent the year of repairs at a temporary school erected for the students.

She did not really mind sitting by herself, so after helping the younger students onto their respective boat and carriage paths, she headed towards a carriage being pulled by what looked like one of the older thestrals, separated from the rest. Stroking it's neck briefly, _I know how you feel, _she thought, she soon was in the carriage on her way to the castle.

The next half hour was spent herding questions and scared first years, before she finally sat at the Gryffindor table to catch the tail end of sorting and enjoy the feast.

Remus was at the professor's table, chatting with Professor Flitwick, when he caught Hermione slipping into the Great Hall out of the corner of his eye. The hastily cast shrinking charms had mostly worn off, and the pretty brunette was sitting in the middle of the entire Hogwarts population wearing a ridiculously short shirt, and one of his plain white button ups, the loose fabric catching her curves in all the right places. The combination of her outfit with her slightly disheveled appearance (presumably, Remus figured, from having had to deal with all the worried first years) made it look as if Hermione had just been shagged. It was a really distracting sight, and it was hard to stay focused on the conversation he was having with the charms professor. After having to ask Flitwick to repeat himself more than once, Remus finally forced himself to tear his attention away from the witch sitting apart from the rest at the table.

The rest of the dinner passed without interruption, although during Minerva's welcome speech, he did catch Hermione watching him. He wondered what she was thinking about, and briefly entertained the fantasy that he would approach her after the feast, and ask her to accompany him down to the Three Broomsticks, before he reminded himself that Hermione doesn't drink, and besides, this was only his first night as a professor (first night in six years, at least), and really, it was no way to start his position. He resigned himself to spending the rest of the evening in the professor's lounge, sharing a few bottles of wine as was the Hogwarts professors' tradition on September 1st, and tried to put the young witch out of his mind.

The next morning, Hermione awoke early to go retrieve her schedule and get a head start on her readings for class. It was her first day back in two years, and she was eager to get back in the swing of things. Of course, it would be a lie if she said she wasn't hoping to avoid Remus-_ no, Professor Lupin_ at breakfast after yesterday's awkward encounter, but she figured she ought to use her awkwardness to her education's advantage, and spend her energies working on her studies. Her early breakfast meant that there was only one or two other students as well as Professor McGonagall at breakfast, and after hurrying to stuff down a few bites of eggs and toast, she rushed out of the Great Hall, thankful to have escaped before Remus had made his way down.

She made her way to a small study tucked away in a corner of the castle on the second floor, that she had discovered in her fourth year. She had never ran into anyone else there, and she often used it to study when she felt the library was too busy. It had a couple comfy chairs, a big window with a cushiony ledge perfect for reading a romance novel, and a small, but well-stocked library that seemed to change every month or so, magically, she presumed. She checked around for anyone watching her before opening the door quietly, a habit she had developed to keep her secret safe from students she feared would use the room for more... scandalous purposes, namely, as a broom-cupboard-snogging upgrade.

As she closed the door behind her, whispering an imperturbable charm to prevent the music she planned to turn on from attracting curious explorers to the room. She turned around to walk towards the record player, when an unexpected presence in the room brought a surprised yell out of her.

"Remus! Merlin, you frightened the living daylights out of me. What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question, Miss Granger. Especially considering the suspicious charm you just cast on the door," Remus said.

"I just..." Hermione tried to figure out the best way to explain how she felt about the room's secrecy, "I liked have a room all to myself, is all. I wanted to put on some music without attracting others."

"Don't you have your Head Girl dorm?"

"Ah, true. Old habits die hard?" she offered as an explanation.

Remus smiled, and gestured towards one of the other seats. He'd had the same thought as Hermione, hoping to escape her presence at breakfast so he could focus on his lessons for the day. Thankfully, she was not going to be in his class until later that week, so he had been glad he had some time to mentally prepare himself. _Or at least get in a few good wanks..._ Still, now that she was here, he was not sure that he minded her presence, and thought that maybe he had just been in a weird mood for the first day.

"Do you have long before your first class?" he asked.

"Only one period," she answered, "but I'm hoping to get a head start on some extracurricular reading."

The two sat in silence for a while, reading, before Hermione decided on impulse to bring up the incident on the train. While she had put on a good facade of interest in her book, she had restarted the same paragraph five times, her mind straying to the look that her DADA professor had given her the day prior. She felt that he was disappointed in her schoolgirl antics, and while she still had a desire for him to find her attractive (for some reason unknown to her), she did not want to chase the desire at the cost of his respect. Besides, she was having some difficulties grappling with her desire to flirt with the handsome professor, so she was doing her best to quash it in it's tracks.

"Professor, yesterday, I-" she started to apologize, but watching the expression on Remus' face quickly evolve into one of distress, she moved to change the topic, wondering why she had thought it was a good subject for conversation, "I liked your shirt. It was very soft." She almost blurted out, in a moment of honesty, that she had slept in the shirt, but caught her tongue in time.

Her words brought images into Remus' mind, images of the shirt on her bare skin, her bare stomach, her bare breasts... She bit her bottom lip nervously, hoping she had not put her foot in her mouth, and looking at him through her thick eyelashes, it took much more willpower than it ought to have to restrain himself from throwing her on table and having his wicked way with her young, taut body.

"I see you found a more suitable uniform?"

"The house elves brought it to me the morning while I was working on..." she suddenly realized something, "Professor, if I say, had a... private side project that I needed some assistance with, do you think you would have to time to help me? Of course, I understand that you're a busy man, with many commitments, so-"

"Of course I have time, Hermione," replied Remus, against his better judgement. _There are a few private side projects I can think of that I would __**definitely **__have the time for, _he thought, lewdly, before shaking his head to clear his thoughts. He just agreed to spend more time in private with her, he really couldn't be thinking like that.

"Yes, well, the thing is, what would you say if this side project, hypothetically, of course, was not exactly the type of thing that a professor ought to condone? I mean, that is, since we have a bit of history of keeping secrets- I never told anyone you were a werewolf in third year!"

"Hermione," Remus started, a tone of warning in his voice. Was she suggesting what he thought she was? "What sort of side project are we talking about here?" As much as he would love to help with a side project that involved him taking her fast and rough against the side of the the bookcase, he knew that it was completely out of bounds.

The young witch gave him a sidelong glance, trying to decide if she could trust him with her secret. She weighed her options, before finally opening her mouth, shutting it, and opening it again.

"The truth is, this would really be much better to ask of Sirius, I mean, since he actually knows the process better, and of course, he's a bit more... Well, not that you're... Ah, well, actually, yes you are a bit more- and not only that but you're a professor too, so it's even in your job description. But of course, Sirius is... He's moved on, and," she misinterpreted the expression on his face, and broke off, "oh dear, Remus, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have brought him up."

Remus' expression was actually one of growing distress at her request. _Sirius knows the process better? _Well, of course, he probably does, Remus conceded, but it wasn't as if he hadn't had his own fair share of women. And what did she mean, _yes you are a bit __**more**__, _a bit more _what_? Yes, he supposed it was in his job description not to help snog students, but- wait, why was Hermione asking for his help in snogging?

"Hermione. Just explain yourself. I will tell you whether or not it is within my limits to assist you, but dancing around the topic will never get us anywhere," Remus prided himself on how composed he'd sounded.

"I'm trying to become an animagus," she blurted. Remus let out a slight sigh, a confusing mix of relief and disappointment. He began to wonder why he had thought her request was anything sexual... The he glanced back at her and she was running a hand through her hair, the motion pulling her shirt up an inch, and the smooth skin peeking out from underneath reminded him why he'd jumped to sexual conclusions. Of course, the fact that her question was academic in nature meant it was much less out of line than Remus had expected it to be, so he had no qualms in saying yes to helping her.

"I know, it's very dangerous. But, I've been reading up on it for a while now, and I really have been quite careful. There's only one part that I can't figure out the next step, and I know you're not an animagus, but you helped the rest of the Marauders, and I was-"

"I'll help," Remus answered simply.

"Really? You won't tell anyone?" Hermione was grinning in happiness, "Thank you so much, Professor. Thank you!"

She ran over to hug him, and he tried not to focus on the way it felt to have her perky breasts pressed up against his chest. Breaking away from the hug, she walked to the couch to pick up her book bag.

"I've got to get to class. When are you able to work on the project? I'd love to get started tonight, but I won't pressure you, since I know you have lots to do," said Hermione.

"Tonight's not the best," he answered, "and, tomorrow's the full moon, actually. How about we get started the day-after-tomorrow?"

Hermione's eyes widened at the mention of the full moon, and they ran up and down his body, lingering longer than they should have on his chest, which was definitely more defined than she remembered it to be.

"Tomorrow?" she wondered, "but you look so..."

"Healthy? I feel amazing. I take some Wolfsbane every day now, and with the progresses that have been made in the last year, it's almost like the suffering associated with the full moon is a distant memory."

"Remus! That's amazing. How wonderful. Well, I'll see you in two nights then. In this room at, shall we say, 8pm?"

"How about 8:30?"

Hermione went through the rest of her day with a little smile tugging at the corner of her lips. While most of the other students kept their distance, partly out of awe at the presence of one of 'the Golden Trio', some of the Slytherins whose parents had been imprisoned following the Battle had taken to harassing her in the hallways, but even they couldn't faze her. She knew she shouldn't be _this _excited for her meeting with her professor, but she couldn't help acting girlier than usual, and mentally planning what outfit she would wear to meet with him.

The next few days went by quickly, with Hermione reading up as much as she could on Animagi, so she wouldn't sound foolish when discussing her difficulties. She had caught his eye a few times in the hallway, and they'd shared a few knowing looks of reminder of the upcoming meeting.

It was the morning of day of their meeting, and Hermione was only able to absentmindedly nibble on a buttered piece of toast, as distracted as she was by her evening plans. She knew Remus would never fancy her, seeing as she was his junior by almost 20 years, but she could not help but entertain fantasies. After all, she told herself, she was by far the oldest student in the castle, and of course, she had always been mature for her age. Still, maturity, she said, was not really the reason he would never be able to fancy her. She had seen wizards of his age date witches of hers, but they never really looked like she did. They were always much more...

Just as she was about to step through the doors to exit the Great Hall, she suddenly felt the familiar jolt of having been hit by a hex. She whipped her head around, trying to catch the culprit, before whipping her head down to her body, and feeling her face to see what the hex might have cause. Hoping it was something innocuous as her hair turning blue, she turned to the Slytherin table to see who might have thrown it, only to find them all suspiciously focused on their food.

She started to feel a rising pressure in her chest, and felt something... Growing. At first she thought she might have been hit by something similar to what Harry had done to his Aunt Marge, and she was inflating, before realizing that the inflation was centralized on one region. One region that was growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. On a region that if she didn't take her bra off in the next 60 seconds, might leave her unable to breathe.

Hermione turned bright red, and felt tears pricking at her eyes. She glanced around hoping no one had noticed her cleavage growing exponentially, and ran out of the Great Hall, ducking into the nearest empty room. Her small A cups had now grown to large Ds, and they were increasing still. This was humiliating. She tore off her shirt, short of breath, and removed the offending bra, which was now sizes too small, standing once again half naked outside of her room for the second time in only a few short days.

It was as if the caster had been able to read her mind, as she lamented her unwomanly body, and had decided to torture her about her insecurities. Her chest was starting to get uncomfortable, and she realized that her situation was only going to get worse, and she had to mobilize quickly, and hurry to Madam Pomfrey before her... ailment was too painful for her to move. Suddenly, she wished for Remus' looser shirt, and remembered the difficulty she had with the engorgement charms on her small one. Thinking quickly, she transfigured the shirt into a large sheet, wrapping it around her torso, and gathering her ever-growing chest in one arm, the sheet in the other, she checked herself to make sure she was decent before running down the hall towards the Hospital Wing. She burst in, her obscenely large bosom heaving, humiliated beyond belief at the few turning heads she had noticed as she tore down the hallway, the loose ends of the sheet trailing behind her in the wind. She hoped she'd been moving fast enough for them to miss the reason she had the sheet wrapped around her chest.

"Madam Pomfrey! I need help," she cried.

The healer came out of a back room, and it was only then that she noticed the room's other occupant, Professor Lupin, sitting on a bed with his shirt off, in the middle of his post-transformation check-up. Hermione hoped the earth would open up and swallow her whole. As if this whole thing had not been humiliating and painful enough, her winsome professor on whom she had developed a crush was now going to bear witness to the ordeal.

"What seems to be the trouble- oh, Merlin. Hurry, let's get you lying down," the healer brought her to one of the beds in the back, and pulled the curtains around her. Thankful she was now away from the prying eyes around her, she knew that there was no way Remus had not figured out what was wrong with her. At that point, her chest was over twenty times larger than it's usual size, and the large breasts looked absurd on her small frame. She closed her eyes, hearing Madam Pomfrey pulling out her wand, and muttering to herself.

"You're going to have to remove the sheet, my dear," said the healer.

Hermione did as told, involuntarily glancing down at her now foreign looking body. The healer had not yet had the chance to stop the growing, and Hermione stared for a minute, getting a perverse enjoyment out of watching her bits grow so quickly. She looked around at her settings, and looked back down, and felt another wave of humiliation. She couldn't believe the Slytherins had done this to her.

On the other side of the curtain, Remus remained frozen, listening to her muffled sniffles, still shocked by the scene that had just unfolded in front of him. Yes, she had been rather... _disfigured_ sounded a bit too strong, but he couldn't find a better word. But being around the ideas of Hermione and breasts had been rather dangerous for him as of late, and he once again felt the familiar rush of blood to his nether regions.

Madam Pomfrey tapped her wand onto her chest, focusing on her wand work, and finally, she stopped growing.

"Miss Granger, this is going to be like your teeth, which we did awhile back, if you can recall," Hermione nodded that she remembered having to shrink her front teeth after a nasty charm when she was younger, impressed that Madam Pomfrey had such a good memory, "you're going to have to tell me when to stop. You know your body better than I do."

Thinking back to how she let the healer shrink her teeth slightly more than they were meant to be, she realized how she could make the best of the situation. Staring in the mirror as her chest size slowly returned to normal, she stopped the healer about a cup-size and a half bigger than she was naturally. Turning left and right to observe her profile, she smiled. What before had been less than enough to grab on to, was now a healthy, perky handful. Still humiliated by the whole experience, she tried to focus on the positives. And tried not to focus on the fact the Remus Lupin had just seen her like that.

"That's perfect, thank you," said Hermione.

The healer had somewhat of a knowing expression on her face, but if she realized that Hermione had stopped her a bit too soon, she didn't say anything.

"Oh! I left my bra in the classroom," exclaimed the brunette.

"Would you like me to cast a Chest Support Charm, or can you do it?" asked the healer.

"Chest Support?" inquired Hermione.

From outside the curtain, listening to the conversation, Remus did his best to suppress a groan. He remembered the Chest Support charm from his days as a schoolboy- Sirius had loved to go on about it. It essentially acted as a magical bra, but allowed the breasts to react a little more naturally to things such as hurrying down the hall, or flouncing down the stairs. The young playboy had relished in refusing to return bras after a midday hookup, instead casting the support charm and enjoying the intimate knowledge he had of the status of the girls chest for the rest of the day, being sure to share all the details with his friends.

Hermione was going to be in his class right before lunch. Not only that, but he had prepared an active class for the first one of the year, involving lots of movement. Movement that meant that her charmed tits would be bounced around right in front of his nose, begging for him to act like a creepy professor, in front of his entire class. _Wonderful, _he thought. He thought about changing his lesson plan, but decided that meant that he would have to acknowledge that he could not control himself. He also figured that just knowing that the young witch would be sitting there, nipples rubbing against the fabric of her shirt with every movement would be a difficult challenge anyways, so the activity levels of the class probably would not make a difference.

He leaned his head back, and decided that it would be better to leave the room before Hermione came out from the behind the curtain, so that he would not have to spend his first few lessons with an image of her in his mind. Of course, he should have realized that his imagination would happily fill in for him, but oh, well, at least he was trying. _Bloody hell, _he realized, _tonight is going to be hard._

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_A/N: Another chapter! I don't know, how do people feel about chapter length? Longer, shorter, just right? _

_What did you like, what didn't you like? Review and I'll love you!_


	3. Chapter 3

The second years had been much less prepared than Remus had expected, as the temporary school had not been able to control its first years well enough to go through the entire curriculum. He was so caught up in his thoughts, trying to figure out how he was going to fit their review of the first year curriculum in with the rest of the second year curriculum, that he had forgotten that he had been dreading Hermione's arrival.

She was one of the first students to arrive, and when he heard her voice greet him, he looked up from his lesson plan. He had known he was going to be greeted with the sight of her bare breasts under the shirt, but their increased size was completely unexpected. He put two and two together, and realized that after the morning's incident, she must not have returned them to her natural size.

Now, Remus did not consider himself to have a type, he found women's bodies of all shapes and sizes beautiful. Hell, one of his favorite shags had been almost completely flat chested. And if anyone had asked him yesterday, what he thought of Hermione's breasts... Well, he probably would have answered in a scandalized tone that he never thought of Hermione's breasts, as she was a student of his. Of course, that would have been a lie, as he thought they were perfect. But seeing her bigger, round, perky tits straining against the fabric of her shirt, how they swayed back and forth just slightly with every step she took, he was mesmerized. He truly would not have guessed that a bigger rack would suit her frame, but now, he could see how it accentuated her hourglass figure.

He realized that not only was he openly staring, but he had started to get a hard-on, and coming to his senses, he grabbed the book he had on his desk about Disfiguring Dark Hexes, and flipped it open, landing on a page with a drawing showing a man whose eyes, nose and mouth had all been replaced with bloody holes. Remus grimaced in revulsion, but the tactic worked, and he felt his arousal going away. _I'll just have to keep the book open to this page during class, to glance at in case of emergency, _he groaned to himself.

When the professor did not return her greeting, instead developing a light flush and grabbing the nearest book, Hermione assumed he was still embarrassed about what he had witnessed at the Hospital WIng. Returning the sentiment, she decided not to sit in the front row. She hoped that things would be back to normal by their meeting that evening.

As the rest of the students tricked in, Remus glanced around at the other girls in his class. Objectively, he could tell that some of them were pretty. But for some reason, none of them got his blood pumping like Hermione did. The rest were all just students to him, and it was weird to think of them in a sexual manner. He didn't know if that made his newfound attraction to the Head Girl better, or worse. He decided to ponder the question later, and started the class.

"I believe most of you were first years last time I was teaching?" There were some murmurs of agreement in the classroom, "Good, you'll hopefully remember how the end of the year exam was a little more involved than most. To get you started, and so that I can assess your various skill levels, I've decided to do something similar to kick off the year. If you'll all just line up over here..."

He lined up the students, helping the ones with questions get their wand movements right, and sent them one-by-one through the tasks, watching their body motion and their choice of defense spells, taking mental notes and occasionally jotting down the random thought he wanted to be sure to remember. When it came to Hermione's turn to go through, he did not make eye contact as she made her way to the start. Try as he might, he could not make a good assessment of her skill. After watching her through the whole exercise, he realized he had mostly watched her bouncing breasts heave under her shirt, distracted by the private knowledge that she wasn't wearing a bra, that every time she dodged a bright jet of light by ducking down, and her tits reacted, the soft fabric was rubbing against her creamy skin just so... It was ridiculous, he realized. He was a fully grown man, who had seen lots of naked women, in compromising positions, some screaming his name... And yet here he was, lusting after a school girl because she wasn't wearing a bra. He was very confused what had come over him, but after glancing around, he noticed that a few other male gazes were trailing the same place as his was. He wasn't sure why knowing that he was in the same boat as a bunch of teenage guys made him feel less insane, but it did.

After the last person had finished the task, he dismissed the class a few minutes early. We watched Hermione's back as she walked out of the classroom. He could still recognize that prim walk that she had, but something felt different to him, more feminine, more sexy. He couldn't tell if that was something that had changed with her or with him.

That evening, after dinner, Remus decided to head to the study early, so that he could mentally prepare himself for spending time alone with Hermione, and hopefully get the upperhand on the situation. He was starting to regret having accepted the offer to help. Not only was it a bad idea for him to be spending time alone with her, but she was right in that becoming an Animagus was a dangerous task. Not only dangerous, but illegal, as students were not allowed to become Animagi until they had passed a test administered only after successfully passing their N.E.W.T.s. The only reason he had been so quick to accept the offer was because he had thought she was sexually propositioning him, and was so distracted when he found out that was not the case that he did not think it through. It was too late to take back his offer, as doing so would require he explain his line of thinking to her, which would not go over well.

It was just starting to get dark outside when he heard a thunderclap, and rain starting coming down in sheets. The room felt cold all of a sudden, even though it was only early September, so he decided to start a fire. He pointed his wand at the fireplace, and then put some soft music on, putting his feet up as he leaned back in his chair. Much like Hermione, Remus had found the room during a hunt to find a better study location than the library during his third year. Of course, unlike Hermione, his best friends were the Marauders, and he would be hard pressed to keep secret a newly discovered room, so the room had often been used for less than noble purposes. Mainly, they had often snuck out to this room late at night, where after casting a few soundproofing charms, they had their own private room to listen to music, stay up late, and get plastered on firewhisky. He suddenly wondered whether their private stash was still there, all these years later.

Sometime during sixth year, Sirius, in a troublemaking mood, had snuck into the Three Broomsticks under James' invisibility cloak to steal some booze for one of their quidditch victory parties. He had gotten a bit carried away, and stole multiple cases full of firewhisky, much to Remus' disapproval. Even after the party, they had barely managed to make a dent in the stock, and knowing that if it was found in their room, there would be hell to pay, they decided to stash the rest of their supply in their secret study.

If Remus remembered correctly... He used his wand to poke the dragon statue on the bookshelf in the eye, saying the password, "I solemnly swear to get plastered." He heard the scraping of stones, and turned to watch as the area under one of the tables opened to reveal an open crate of bottles. He smiled, pulling an unopened bottle out. There were still probably almost thirty-five bottles left.

He pulled out one of the glasses they had stashed, and out of habit, began to pour himself a cup. It was hard to believe how much time had passed since they had last all four been in this room. Reminiscing as he raised the cup to his lips, he paused, realizing he was supposed to be meeting with Hermione. He glanced at his watch and realized that he still had over an hour before she was supposed to show, and deciding it was probably safe, he took a sip, enjoying the familiar burn.

They had gotten a little out of control during their seventh year. James had finally started dating Lily, which counterintuitively had made him loosen up a little in certain ways, since she stopped scolding him all the time, and he stopped his absurd, failing attempts to impress her. She also had a surprisingly high alcohol tolerance, and although she refused to drink on weeknights, she could drink James and Peter under the table on Friday evenings. Remus and Sirius both could hold their own, and, unfortunately for them, both felt like they had good reason to drink, furry little problem and family problem, respectively, along with everything that was going wrong with the world, meaning they often wound up together in the study on weeknights, Remus pretending to work, and Sirius brooding. With the unlimited supply of alcohol, James and Lily being Head Boy and Head Girl and allowed out past curfew, and the foreboding sense of impending war, they spent many, many more nights than they ought to getting drunk off their asses in the study.

Remus had always thought that some of the professors were aware of their little habit, but had realized that the teenagers were having to grow up too fast as it was, and looked the other way. James had lost his parents that year, and every day the Daily Prophet came in with news of more murders. Every time they saw the name of someone they knew in the morning paper, the group would share a look, knowing they would end up in the study that night.

Even though their reasons for drinking were often sad, they made sure to enjoy themselves as much as possible, trying to forget the outside world. He remembered one night when Lily had drank more than even her tolerance could handle, and she was convinced to make out with a shirtless James wearing only her bra, much to the delight of the rest of the group. She wouldn't make eye contact with any of them for almost a week after that, but they solved that the next Friday night with firewhisky, as they had been wont to solve most of their problems that year.

Remembering the past gave Remus a different outlook on Hermione's age. On the one hand, it seemed like so long ago that his memories had taken place, making himself feel much older than her. On the other, he knew that, while they hadn't dealt with their problems in the most mature way, after all they had to go through, they were adults by then, even at their young age. Hermione had already been through as much, if not more, than they had been through by their seventh year. Actually, she was another three years older than any of them had been, between the fact that she was oldest of her year to begin with, and the time she had taken off.

Remus was lost in thought, and working on remains of his second glass of firewhiskey when he heard the door open. He froze mid-sip, realizing how irresponsible it was to be caught drinking at their meeting, and wondered how he had let the time get away from him. He turned around to explain himself to Hermione, only to be greeted by her soaked figure.

"Professor!" she said, sounding surprised to see him, "You're early! And you're... drinking?"

He wished that his brain had been working well enough to come up with an excuse, but he was highly distracted by the sight of Hermione's pert, pink nipples poking through her now translucent shirt, the water making it stick to skin entirely inappropriately. Whatever he told himself earlier about how the alcohol would help him calm his nerves around her was completely wrong, and with his mind a little foggy, it was even harder to keep himself off of the young witch.

"Why are you wet?" he grunted.

"Oh!" remembering why she had been surprised to see the professor, she wrapped her cloak around her body, "I came in here to dry off. I figured I would head out and pick some of the plants required for some steps in the Animagus process, when the skies opened up on me. I figured I would come here to dry my shirt and set up a little..."

Now that she had covered herself up, he was able to focus a little more. He didn't know how else to explain the alcohol, so he decided to go with the truth.

"We spent a lot of time here, our seventh year. I thought I would check to see if our stash was still here, and... I poured myself a drink out of habit, I suppose," he said. Deciding to offer her a drink out of courtesy, not expecting her to accept it, he gestured towards the bottle, "Would you like one?" He realized that drinking with your students was definitely crossing the line, but he was pretty sure that he had crossed that line somewhere a few days back. Besides, he felt a little less like she was catching him doing something naughty if he invited her to join.

"Okay. I mean, yes, please," she answered. Remus was surprised at her acceptance, and grabbing another glass from the opened compartment, he poured her some firewhiskey.

"You drink?" he asked.

"Well," she hesitated, wondering how much she should divulge to her professor, "Harry, Ron and I spent the last year, of legal age, not only recovering from a long and traumatic war, but also trying to... regain some of our lost youth. You do the math?" she finished with a smile, taking a sip of her drink, wincing at the fiery taste, "I don't know if I will ever get used to that."

"When was your first drink?"

"Fourth year. At the Yule Ball," she answered, with a slightly guilty look.

"Fourth year! Hermione!" Remus shot her a look of disapproval.

"Victor Krum handed it to me, he thought I knew!" she chuckled, "After my first sip, I had such a horrible coughing fit. I was so embarrassed to tell him the truth, that I said I did that every time, and finished the rest of the drink as quickly as I could. Besides, when was _your _first drink?"

"Third year," he said, mirroring her earlier guilty look, "Sirius was a bad influence on us all."

"Tut tut, Professor, double standards are good for no one," she teased.

"You three went through a lot," Remus stated, offhandedly, after a lull in conversation.

"At least we still have each other," she said, gently referring to the loss of his friends. They were quiet for a moment, lost in thought.

"We knew things were bad, I mean, when we drank in here, together. That's why we were here, the five of us- Lily spent a lot of time here too- we were here because we knew it was bad, and only getting worse. But I don't think any of us had any idea of how much worse it would get. That all of us- well, all but me- would be dead before we turned 40. That Peter... Well, he was always a bit different, I suppose, but never, we never would have guessed that... I mean, we spent seven years together, growing up together. And Sirius- you wouldn't believe how many nights he and I sat in here together, drinking, complaining, drinking some more. You know we each thought the other was a spy? After all we had been through..." Remus paused, "In any case, it feels very strange to be back here now, drinking once again, after all that has happened."

On that sobering note, Hermione threw back the rest of her drink, and grabbed the bottle, pouring herself another cup. She wasn't exactly a lightweight, but she often forgot to respect her limits- there was something dark she loved about being able to cut loose from her usually prim and proper self.

The continued their conversation, shifting to more lighthearted topics, and slowly, they had each gotten themselves more than just a little tipsy. Hermione glanced at her watch, and realized that it was almost ten thirty, and gasped. Thank goodness it was a Friday night, she thought.

"Remus! We were supposed to be working on the Animagus project," she said, standing up quickly, a little more outspoken than usual, "shall we get started? There's this one part of the transformation that I... Should I show you?"

Remus thought that he was probably a little more drunk than Hermione was, but the steps in the Animagus transformation were dangerous magic, not to be attempted after having had a single drink, let alone multiple ones. His guard let down a little, his arm shot out, grabbing hers.

"No, you've been drinking. S'not safe," he said, pulling her down next to him on the sofa, enjoying how it felt as she landed a little bit on top of him. She was warm, and glancing down, he noticed that from his angle, he had a very good view down her shirt. The way she was leaning, the fabric folded so that he could see a good portion of her breasts, and he really wished he could see more. He had gotten a good view earlier that week, when she was wearing her lacy black bra, but now that they were a bigger, he wanted to see how they had changed. "I like 'em. The new size, I mean." _Holy. Shit. Did that just come out of his mouth? Aloud? Fuck. FUCK. _

Hermione paused. _Oh my god. __**The new size...**__Was he talking about... _

"Bloody hell, Hermione, I am so sorry. I think I must be a little more drunk than I realized. That was entirely out of line," he started to make to get up, when she put her hand on his leg.

"No, don't leave," she said quietly, "I'm glad you noticed." She turned pink, and looked the other way. They sat in silence for a moment, before her quiet voice picked back up again, "Do you want to see them?"

Remus' breath hitched in his throat. _Merlin, he wanted to answer yes to that so badly..._ He watched her chest rise and fall for a few times, leaving the question in the air. He imagined saying yes, and watching her small fingers work through the buttons of her shirt, like they had in the train the other day. He imagined her slipping off the shirt, with no bra on underneath, and how wonderful it would be to be so close to her, topless, that he could just reach out, and...

"I don't think that's a good idea," he answered.

"What a stupid question." she bit out, angry at herself. This time, it was his turn to stop her from getting up.

This was one of those moments in life that there were two paths. If Remus were a little less drunk, he would have seen that, and he probably would have let her leave, fume over his rejection, and get over him. As it was, there had been no harm done, really, only some inappropriate banter. But even though Remus thought he was taking the moral high road, he was too drunk to see the other path, and instead, he wrapped his arm around her unconsciously. After giving her shoulders a small squeeze, he pulled himself away. Against better judgement, he poured them both small drinks, and passed Hermione hers. She settled herself next to him, clutching her drink close.

"You know why it's a bad idea," Remus said softly.

Hermione nodded, and finished her drink in one gulp, setting her cup down. She tentatively rested her head half on the sofa, half on his shoulder, and stared at the fire quietly. The pair sat there for a while, Remus nursing his drink slowly. After a while, he realized that Hermione's breath had evened, and turning his head slightly so as not to disturb her, he confirmed that she was sleeping. For what seemed like the millionth time that week, he went against his better judgement once more, and transfigured the sofa into a large bed, kicking off his shoes. He leaned back into the pillows, and Hermione snuggled into him.

He closed his eyes, realizing he would probably regret his decision in the morning, but he pulled her in closer with his arm and enjoyed her warmth, following her to sleep.

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_A/N: Thank you so much to those that have reviewed so far, nightkitty555, Smithback, nostalgiakills, you guys are awesome!_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Smut lies ahead! _

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Hermione woke up the next morning feeling warm inside, like she had just had a really good dream. She felt a body spooning her, and opening her eyes, she realized she was in the study, which now contained a bed. A bed that contained a Remus, who made a noise that sounded remarkably like a growl, and pulled her in closer, nuzzling into her hair.

As he pulled her in close, she felt something hard pressing into her from behind, and processing what it was, her mouth slowly formed an 'O'-shape. Professor Remus Lupin was currently pressing his throbbing morning wood into her backside. She was motionless for a brief moment, unsure of what to do. Her first instinct was to spring out of bed, away from the sleeping professor, and hopefully escape the room before he woke up. But after last night, she wasn't sure she would get another chance to be this close to him again- that is, unless he got drunk again. Besides, she was really enjoying his warm snuggles. And, okay, maybe she was enjoying the illicit feeling of his cock pressed up against her bum.

She could feel that her skirt had made its way up during the night, and felt that if she moved just a little bit, she would be able to feel him pressed right up against her panties, and the bare skin on the back of her thighs. Just the thought of how good it would feel was exciting. It was a bad idea, but if Remus woke up, she could just pretend to be sleeping, and that the raised skirt had happened naturally. She wiggled up just a little bit, then scooted down, working the skirt up slowly using friction, so that it was bunched around her waist. She knew she was acting recklessly, but Ron's old teacher comment had hit much deeper than she realized. She felt as if she was often uncomfortable going after what she wanted, worried that people might disapprove, and she was sick of feeling controlled. It felt good to loosen up.

The wiggling around woke Remus up. As he regained awareness of his surroundings he began to grow conscious of the fact that he was very much spooning the young Head Girl. _Shit_, he thought, as he realized that he had a hard-on. He was pretty sure he had been dreaming about the very girl he had lying next to him, where she had been doing something he was pretty sure would make her blush from head to toe just to think about it. He felt her moving around, her skirt creeping up, and then she pressed back towards him, and he felt her warmth spread to his erection. His very painful erection, due to her tight little bum wiggling around on it. _Gods, why was she doing this to him? _

As Hermione lay on her side, she could feel a tightening coil in her stomach, begging her to grind back onto Remus. However, she knew that would definitely wake him up, and would be impossible to explain, so she did her best to remain still, only twitching slightly.

Remus was wondering what was going through her head. Did she realize he had an erection? From the way her hips were twitching, as if with desire, he felt inclined to guess yes. There were so few layers of clothing between the two of them. He knew how easy it would be to unzip his pants, pull her panties to the side, and slip himself deep inside of her, and just imagining how good it would feel almost caused him to do it involuntarily.

He saw her hands clenching her skirt, and decided that she thought that he was still asleep. This was something he could take advantage of... His sleeping actions were beyond his control, after all. _That's a dangerous road you're going down, _he told himself, but at that point, he was so close to fucking her silly that this seemed almost innocent in comparison.

Muttering fake sounds of sleep, he pushed one of his legs between hers, and pulled her in closer with his arm, his hand slipping up into dangerous territory. As he brushed the underside of her breast through the shirt, he almost lost control, but managed to hold steady, coming to a rest with his hand lightly cupping one of her tits. _Fuck, I am seriously pushing it, _he realized, _ I managed to turn her down last night, and I was even drunk then. What's my excuse now? _The difference was that last night, he didn't have Hermione warm and twitching against his hard cock, begging to be touched.

When she felt him move, Hermione had gotten worried that she had woken him up, but he muttered some sleep talk under his breath, so she relaxed. All of a sudden, she felt him pushing one of her legs forwards, nestling one of his between hers, so that he was partly on top of her back, and his arm pulled her in closer, his hand coming to rest on one of her breasts. She felt like she was going to burst if she didn't relieve some of the tension that was building inside of her. If only he knew what he was making her feel while he was still sleeping, Remus would think she was such a creep. Suddenly, Remus twitched in his sleep, and his legged pressed into her. The unexpected friction against her clit caused her to let out an involuntary moan, and she bucked her hips against him, for a brief moment losing control.

Remus didn't think he had ever heard anything hotter than the moan she had just let out. It was raw, unbridled lust, and for a second, there was nothing to hold him back from pinning her under him and having his way with her, but realizing that was not an option, he reluctantly knew that he had to get himself away from the young witch before anything happened.

He was about to pull away and pretend that her moan had woken him up, when she humped his leg. _Oh god, oh god, oh god. _He froze, hoping she would do it again. Hermione had never felt so sexually frustrated in her whole life. At that point, trying to think of something else was a lost battle, as she was going to be out of it until she came. Her only hope, she decided, was to try and get herself to orgasm before Remus woke up, so she could try to play innocent. He had already turned her down once last night, and if he caught her being this sexual with him, she knew that as a professor, he would have to cut off all interaction with her, which she wasn't sure she could take.

Remus' disappointment that she had not continued her hip movements caused him to nudge her again with his leg, desperately hoping that it seemed like a natural sleep occurrence. He knew this would all have to come to a stop once he 'woke up', so the longer he could feign sleep the better. His attempts were rewarded with a low, stifled moan, and she started to rotate her hips around on his thigh in a slow, deliberate manner. This was the most pleasurable, painful torture he could possibly imagine. He had a sexy, hot young thing getting herself off on his leg, and he couldn't move, or react, lest she stop.

Hermione had to touch herself. At a certain point, she had stopped worrying in the back of her head about the look that Remus would give her if he woke up and saw her touching herself, she just knew that she had to do it. Trying to move as little as possible, she slipped her arm beneath her, and started to touch herself.

He felt her slip her hand into her panties, and her breathing pick up. The pace of her hips grinding into him picked up to match, and she started grinding her bum onto his erection as well. He needed to touch more of her, feel more of her. Desperately hoping she wouldn't realize he was awake, and that she was too caught up in her actions, he slipped his hand under her shirt. If he hadn't been so fogged up by her constant grinding on his cock, he would never have been so bold, but unable to help himself, he grabbed her bare breast, and he actually almost fucking came in his pants.

The feeling of his hand on her breast was amazing, and Hermione was too out of it to analyze the fact that it was highly unlikely that this was the action of a sleeping man- really, she was too out of it to tell where fantasy ended and reality began. She began audibly moaning, and her hips were now making big circles around his leg. She pictured him slipping his erection out of his pants, and taking her, hard. "Remus," she moaned, "fuck."

Hearing her moan his name was so hot that, unable to help himself, he pushed his leg against her even harder, and began to twist her nipple under her shirt. The added sensations were enough to send her over the edge, and shuddering, she came hard around his thigh, pushing back onto his throbbing hard-on.

Remus couldn't help himself, and he opened his eyes just enough to watch her come, able to see just the side of her face, flushed, her eyes closed, her lips parted wide. Moving away from her was nearly impossible, but he knew that as she began to come down, she would realize how strange it was that his hand was inside of her shirt, so he made a soft snore, and pulled out his hand, pretending to scratch an itch on his thigh, then left his arm draped on his side.

His erection was still pressing hard into her, when she came to her senses. She had just brought herself to orgasm next to a sleeping Remus. Hell, _using_ a sleeping Remus. She felt a wave of shame come over her, and she rotated herself away from him. Trying to pretend as if she just woke up, she made some stretching movement, coughing a little. Of course, if the coughing had really been enough to wake him up, her earlier moans would already have, but Hermione had been too turned on to think straight.

Remus, playing along, let his eyes flutter open, and faked a yawn. He was not sure how to play off the erection that he still had, trying to figure out how he would normally act, if Hermione had not just put on that show right next to him. He was also more turned on than he had ever been in his entire life, and was worried about his ability to form coherent sentences.

"Oh, uh, good morning, Remus," she said, her cheeks bright pink. _If he only knew what I just did, _she thought, _he would never look at me again_.

If he had thought the worst was over for his erection (or best, depending how you looked at it), he was wrong. Her post-orgasmic state was beyond sexy. Her lips looked swollen, her hair was a mess, and the top button of her shirt had come undone at some point, leaving her tits even more on display. She had not really thought to adjust her skirt before pretending to wake up, so he could see an inappropriate amount of thigh.

"You fell asleep last night," he started, realizing he should probably explain why she had woken up in bed with him, "and I didn't want to disturb your sleep." In retrospect, it really was a pretty lame excuse for spooning one of his students all night, _I didn't want to disturb your sleep. _Yeah, right.

"Yes, yes. Thank you, uh..." Hermione floundered, not sure what to say. "I think I should go change before breakfast." She realized they had never gotten the chance to work on the Animagus transformation. There was a big part of her that wanted to go run and hide under her blankets, never facing Remus again. Not only had she offered to show him her tits last night, but she had masturbated next to him as he slept! She had no idea what had overcome her.

At the same time, there was something inside of her begging to spend more time with Remus. And, she thought that maybe if they actually had a normal night working on the Animagus project together, he would forget how silly she had acted the night before. Her mind, made up, she decided to ask him to work on the project once more.

"Since we got a bit distracted last night, do you think we could set up another meeting to work on my transformation again?"

Although Remus thought spending more alone time with Hermione was a horrible idea, he was willing to agree to pretty much anything that would let him get back to his bedroom faster, as try as he might, he was having a really hard time getting rid of his erection, so he was going to have to do it the old fashioned way.

"Of course, Miss Granger. Does Tuesday evening work for you?"

The set up the time, and Remus quickly transfigured the bed back into a sofa. They parted their separate ways, and Remus hurried back to his room, holding his cloak in front of him to cover his noticeable bump, in case any students were awake early that morning.

Once he was back in his room, he quickly unzipped his pants, and started to stroke himself. He closed his eyes, trying to think about anyone other than Hermione, but she kept on coming back to him in flashes. Never had he pictured himself being the gross professor that masturbated to fantasies of his students. Fantasies of her coming into his office for a little extra credit, bending over, wearing that short skirt she had on the train ride, a gust of wind picking up to reveal she wasn't wearing any underwear. Not just fantasies, he thought, as he pictured how she looked as she brought herself to orgasm, rocking her hips on his thigh. There was something incredibly hot about a woman being so turned on that she lost control of her body and let her desires take the lead. About Hermione being so desperate to come that she humped his leg like an animal. Remembering hearing her moan his name, and her flushed face as she came, he finished with a groan.

After he had cleaned up, he started to come back to his senses, and he began to wonder what he had been thinking, pulling a stunt like the one he had in the library. Even if he had been asleep- which he should not have been in a bed with his student in the first place, especially not recovering from a night of drinking with his student- his behavior was out of control. How fucked-up was he that he grabbed his student's bare breast, pulling and twisting her tight nipple like- _bloody hell, _Remus thought, as he realized he was getting hard again.

Hermione was also having her own battle with her conscience. She was beginning to wonder if maybe she had been drugged with a lust potion, because she was feeling entirely out of control, and out of sorts. She flushed as she recalled how she had rubbed herself on Remus' leg, as he slept unawares- her face began to turn red part in embarrassment, part in arousal. Recalling how it felt to have his erection pressed into her backside, she began to wonder what he had been dreaming about. She tried to quell the hope that it had been her in his dream. She pictured the look of disapproval on his face after the stunt she pulled on the train, and his composure and even voice as he said he "didn't think it was a good idea" for her to take off her shirt. She knew there was no way she was having the same effect on him as he had on her.

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_A/N: Again, any and all feedback is much appreciated! Of any length, content, etc... Also, I realize that any smut of this sort is inherently OOC. However, I'm doing my best to keep them in character as possible. I'd love to know how you guys think I'm doing with that. _


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Heh, yep, more smut. Be forewarned. _

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Trying to act natural, Hermione decided to sit in the front row of Remus' class that Monday. If she didn't, she told herself, then it would seem strange and suspicious. She'd found herself sitting in the nearest bathroom, checking her watch to make sure she timed her entrance early enough to seem normal, but late enough that she could guarantee that someone else would be in the classroom with them, and she realized she was acting crazy. However, not knowing what else to do, she sat there in the toilet stall with her thoughts until the minute hand signaled it was time for her to head to class.

Remus stood up to begin the lecture, doing his best to ignore the brunette he had watched masturbate next to him on Saturday morning. _No, you can't ignore her completely, _he argued with himself, _that would draw attention._ Besides, it seemed that the fates had something else in mind, because when Remus asked everyone in the class to pair up for the practical activity, Hermione was the only one left without a partner. When he called her over to pair up with him, to provide an example for the class, she refused to make eye contact, and walked over slowly.

It was good to know that she felt as awkward as he did, and it actually allowed him to relax a bit. As the rest of the class payed attention, he began to explain what they were supposed to be doing.

"Now, as we discussed earlier, a skilled Legilimens can penetrate your mind, picking through your memories to find whatever they wish to reveal. Occlumency is how you close your mind against such attacks. This is a very difficult branch of magic, and it's beyond what we are going to be learning in our curriculum. However, there are some easier spells out there that can somewhat mimic what one can do with Legilimency. Of course, they are much easier to fend off, but they still use a similar technique. That is what we will be practicing with today.

"The Pudorus spell will reveal your most embarrassing memories to the caster," at this, a few students shared looks and giggles, "and don't think you're off the hook just because you paired up with a friend who knows your secrets, since it specifically reveals what you are embarassed for the caster to find out. I have a feeling that this will be enough incentive for you all to focus on the task of properly clearing your mind so that the spell will reflect off the blank slate."

The professor turned to Hermione, who was now a delightful shade of red, as he finished up what he was saying. They were standing in front of an expectant class, some of whom wore nervous looks in fear of what their spell might reveal, some looking around as if hoping to change partners.

"I want you all to watch my wand work as I cast the spell on Hermione for her to deflect. Remember, the deflection works best if the spell hits a completely blank mind. The spell relies on its victim to think of precisely the memories they are trying to hide, so the deflection will fail if you have the embarrassing memories at the forefront."

It was only as he turned to cast the spell that he realized exactly who he was casting the spell on. He was going to be casting the spell on probably the worst possible option in the entire classroom, but there was no turning back. While Hermione was an exceptionally bright witch, and he had no doubt that she would easily be able to fend off the spell were it anyone else casting it, if the color of her face was any indication, her memories were anything but cleared from her mind.

Flicking his wand delicatly, he called "_Pudorus!_" and a light blue jet flew through the air, hitting Hermione. The class had mostly failed to pay attention to his wand work, and were instead watching the pairs faces expectantly, hoping for a reaction.

Even before the spell had hit her, Hermione could feel that Remus was about to witness what had happened in bed on Saturday, and he was going to relieve the memory in front of the entire class. She could only hope that he would be able to control his anger until he was alone with her, because if he exploded at her in front of everyone, her time at Hogwarts would have to end prematurely, there was no doubt about it. The rumor mill at Hogwarts was insatiable, and they would absolutely destroy Hermione.

She had almost had a semblance of a cleared mind until only seconds before she was struck by the spell, she made eye contact with her professor, and every single gory detail came flooding to the forefront of her mind. She knew immediately as she was hit by the spell that Remus was in her mind, reliving the memories as if they were his- she could feel his presence.

Although he had been expecting her memories, he had not been prepared for the intensity of them. He had cast the spell before, it had been one of James and Sirius' favorites in fourth year, allowing them to revel in their bullying by experiencing the embarrassment of their victims. However, never before had the memories been so vivid. He could feel her arousal, her desperation, her desire to feel his cock inside of her. He could feel her shame mingling with her lust. He could feel his hand on her breast, his warmth surrounding her. Reliving the experience from her point of view was intense, and he suddenly realized he needed to get the attention off of him before his students noticed the growing bulge in his trowsers.

"Impressive deflection Miss Granger, 5 points to Gryffindor! Class, please, pair off with your partners and get started, class is over in only ten minutes. Make sure both of you get the chance to practice both the casting and the deflection," Hermione's eyes, locked to the ground in shame, lifted to his in confusion as he gave her the house points. She knew very well that she had not deflected a single bit of the curse.

The other students headed off, their disappointment from the lack of drama in the Remus-Hermione interaction wearing off as they tittered about the task at hand. Remus shifted so his cloak was shielding him, and tried to slow down his erratic breathing and put the memories out of his mind. _Or put them in reserve for what would be a wonderful wank later that night, _the naughty voice in his head told him. Hermione was staring at him with a nervous look, waiting for what would come next. He knew he had to say something, it would be obvious to her that he had seen the memories.

It began to dawn on him that he had nothing to be ashamed of, at least as far as she was concerned. So far, he had turned her down gently, and she had taken advantage of him while he was sleeping. All in all, it would seem as if he had the upper hand. He had no desire to punish her, especially seeing as he had somewhat instigated their interactions. He turned towards her, and she took half a step back, opening her mouth as if to make an excuse, but nothing came out.

If he was being completely logical, just because he had nothing to be ashamed of didn't give him the right to tease her, but lately, he seemed to be anything but logical around Hermione. So after quickly checking to make sure no one was watching them, he leaned in close to her, and whispered in her ear, "I think we may need to work on your deflection some more, Miss Granger."

His response was completely unexpected. The feeling of his warm breath tickling her neck, the implication of his response, sent shivers down her spine, and she could feel her blood pooling down below.

She was still distracted and breathing quickly when he cast the spell on her again, so she had no time to clear her mind. This time, she could feel he stayed in her mind much longer, and she watched his pupils dilate and his adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. His knuckles turned white as they clenched one of the desks next to him. Reliving how good it felt to have his erection press into her, and watching him feel what she had felt was a heady experience, and Hermione was starting to feel that desperate need growing inside of her.

As the spell wore off, Hermione shook off the fog surrounding her mind, and decided that two could play at that game.

"You've had two chances now Professor. I think it's only fair that I get my turn," and without giving him warning, she shot the spell at him.

Unlike Hermione, Remus had a fair bit of experience with the spell, and even without warning, he managed to clear his mind of most of the offending memories- in particular, the memory of him being awake during Hermione's most embarrassing memory. While they were being playful at the moment, he shuddered to think at the trouble that would arise if she were to find that out. However, she still caught him off guard, and before he had his mind completely blank, the spell hit him.

Remus groaned as he realized that she was seeing his memory of jacking off in his bedroom later that day. Most of the details were fuzzy, but it was obvious that she was at the center of the fantasy, along with her tiny schoolgirl outfit and her plump tits. She bit her lip, and he watched her dry her palms on her skirt, and bite back a moan. _Interesting, _he thought, _not the reaction I was expecting. _Even though he knew she had made some motions at him, he would have still expected some disgust when she realized that her older professor was fantasizing about her- crushing on your professor was not quite the same as having his reciprocation. Her unexpected and obvious arousal was getting to him, and he made his next decision impulsively.

"Miss Granger, casting a spell on a Professor without warning is extremely inappropriate. Step into my office at once to discuss this."

Hermione followed him in breathlessly. She stood in the center of his office, wide eyes watching him expectantly. She was not sure if he was actually mad at her or not, but she was still distracted by his memory. He briefly trained his eyes over her, appreciating the way her skirt fell over her ass, and her chest heaved up and down with every shallow breath of air she took. She was still chewing her lip, and unconsciously rotating her hips, trying to create some desperately needed friction in her nether regions.

He brusquely cleared off a space for her on the edge of his desk, so she was sitting facing outwards into his office. He knew his actions were so beyond the line of what was right, but he wasn't thinking straight anymore. He whispered a charm that vanished her panties, and she gasped in surprise. Grazing his hand down her front, lingering on her breasts, pausing at the apex of her thighs, he reached down and spread her knees apart without warning. Using his wand once more, he wordlessly used a spell that bound her knees in place, so she could not close her legs. He purposefully left her wand next to her, knowing that she was a clever witch and could vanish the bonds with no trouble if she wanted to. He stepped back and admired his handiwork.

"Touch yourself," he commanded, and without waiting to see if she obeyed, he walked out of the room to attend to his class. He quickly cast an Imperturbable charm on the door just in case. He walked around answering questions for a few minutes before class ended and the students filed out to lunch. Remus was doing his best to keep his mind off of what he had just left in his office, but was having some difficulties.

After class was dismissed, Remus made his way back to his office, dreading what he would find behind the door. He had a feeling he had gone too far this time, and he was going to open the door to a furious and disgusted Hermione pointing her wand at him, rearing to report his indecency.

Slowly, he opened the door and and stepped into the room, nervously, quickly shutting the door behind him. Instead of what he feared, he was greeted with the sight of Hermione still on the desk, her eyes shut, a look of concentrated pleasure on her face. She had undone the top button and pulled one breast out of her shirt and was working on the nipple, while her other hand was dipping in and out of view under her skirt.

Remus was filled with an urge to go jump her, but instead, he took a few stiff steps to the armchair near the entrance and sat down. Upon hearing his steps, Hermione opened her eyes. As they made eye contact, she froze, unsure of what to do, but she was so frenzied that she could not help desperate little gasps escaping from the back of her throat.

"Don't stop," grunted Remus. That was all the permission she needed, and Hermione resumed her ministrations, somewhat more timidly. Soon, watching Remus' eyes all over her got her even more worked up, and she pulled down her shirt and bra so that both her tits were out, and began to massage the other one. Her hips were rocking back and forth on the table, and she started to moan more loudly. What she really wanted was for Remus to stop watching her, and to come and fuck her hard on his desk, but she was too turned on to verbalize any of her desires.

"Rem... Re- oh, gods, Remus... please, please..." Hermione was mewling, gasping for air, her hands moving quicker.

Remus could barely breathe, and was hoping he would be able to etch the image of Hermione's legs open on his desk, her tiny skirt draped over her, her breasts lewdly exposed and thrust forwards. Her legs began to strain at their binds, trying to clamp shut on her hands, as the pleasure inside of her kept on builidng.

"I'm going to... Remus, Remus, oh, I'm going to come, god," her hips were jutting against the bonds on her knees as much as they could, begging for Remus to fill the void. Hearing Hermione moan his name was wonderful. Their eyes met, sending Hermione powerfully over the edge.

Exhausted and trembling with lingering pleasure, Hermione caught her breath on the edge of the desk. Remus had not budged from his position on the armchair, still enraptured by the sight of Hermione. They stayed in those positions for a minute or two, not saying a word, just breathing heavily. Finally, Hermione began to tidy herself up, rearranging her bra and buttoning up her shirt.

She undid the binding spell, and hopped off the desk. Almost as if she had not just brought herself to completion right in front of Remus, Hermione walked over to him timidly. She paused between him and the door, her mouth open hesitantly.

"Could I have my panties back?" she asked, biting her lip.

His voice had still not quite come back to him, so Remus simply shook his head no, and made no motion to return anything. Hermione grew a surprised expression on her face, but accepted her fate, and turned to leave.

"I'll see you at lunch, Professor," she said, and closed the door behind her.

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_A/N: As always, I love all of your reviews! _


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione tugged down her skirt as much as possible as she sat at the lunch table, so that her bare bottom would not be in contact with the seat. She tried to subtly glance around to see if anyone could tell what she had just done, but it was hard to tell. She turned to her plate and picked at some food while considering her actions.

The problem, she decided, with coming of age in a war is that so much is changing at the same time. In a scientific experiment, you're supposed to control all of the variables, except for the one that you are observing. The idea is that if nothing else is changing, any changes that occur in the system are directly due to the one observed variable. Since Hermione had grown up in the thick of the war... It was impossible for her to discern what was a natural result of her growing up, and what was a direct cause of the war. She had changed, she knew that much.

She had never really gotten a chance to learn too much muggle science, but she had picked up a few books at her library at home during the summer for light reading. She remembered learning that Newton's Third Law stated that for every action, there was an equal and opposite reaction. Granted, Newton's three laws didn't seem to hold much weight in the wizarding world, but as she thought about it, it seemed to have applied to her situation.

Hermione had changed the world. Sure, if she was being modest, she could say that the most important bits had all been Harry, and she had just happened to a bright witch in the right time and the right place, but the fact remained that her actions had changed the course of the wizarding world. And for that action, the equal and opposite reaction had changed her.

For every bit of force she had exerted, trying to change the world, that very world had exerted it's own force back on her. A force that had shaped her, and changed her, making her grow up in unexpected ways.

She had read stories about muggle soldiers coming home from the trenches in World War One. Of course, no one liked being in the trenches. They were disgusting, miserable, horrifying... All one could think about was how amazing it would be to be back home. But when the time finally came for those brutalized soldiers to return to their families- it was as if something was now missing from their lives. As if all the whirling, grimy chaos from the trenches had nestled into their brains, burrowing in, so that when it was removed, there was a hole. A hole that no one back home could fill, could understand, because they did not have any holes like it.

Dring the last years of the war, her mind had constantly been buzzing with different ideas for the Horcruxes, different worries about people they were not able to contact, different scenarios that they might have to prepare for. Now, without having to constantly be on the alert, she found herself feeling listless. Well, as listless as Hermione Granger could get. She was taking as many N.E.W.T. classes as Professor McGonagall had allowed, and she was currently working on three different side projects. Still, she felt like there was a constant reminder that something in her life was missing.

Ron and Harry had been wonderful in coping with that feeling, as they all could understand each other. But they had all experienced the war in different ways, and Ron, and then Harry, had both been getting back to their feet and moving on before Hermione had even felt like she had fully processed everything.

She had started to grow accustomed to things feeling dull, to her detached feelings, when she realized that her last two dalliances involving Remus had changed things. She had never experimented with crushes and relationships before, like the other girls she had grown up with. Ron's comment had struck her, because it was strange for her to realize that was how she was perceived. Slowly, she was observing herself from the inside, and realized that her mannerisms, the little things she said, her style of dress, all of her learned, habitual actions contributed to a character she portrayed, that she had learned somewhere along the way. Some of it came from being different, the smart girl, that was always blurting out the answers in class- she had never really had any girlfriends. So while the other girls were trying different makeup styles, she was too embarrassed to practice anything on her own. In all honesty, it had never particularly been something that had interested her, but every now and then, she wished she had learned along with everyone else.

Still, now that Ginny had somewhat made it her mission to turn Hermione into some sort of vixen (she had only gotten her paws on her once so far, and had given her a total makeover, with mixed reactions from the rest at the Burrow) she was slowly learning the typical techniques.

Hermione saw Remus enter the Great Hall out of the corner of her eye, and she was jolted back to her original train of thought. _She had just masturbated in front of Remus. Why? _

She knew it was not just about the sex- well at least, not in the normal way. She'd been out to enough bars with Ron and Harry to have more than a few blokes hit on her and try to take her home. She had never been interested in those blokes. But when Remus, who had just sat down, glanced up at her, she felt herself getting hot all over again. He was able to make her feel in a way she did not know she could since the war had ended. Alive, and full of energy, full of desire to do something.

Suddenly, Charlie Weasley sat down next to her. A buff arm threw itself around her shoulder, and she glanced to the side, catching sight of his tribal tattoo wrapped around his tan bicep.

"Charlie?" she said, surprised, "What on earth are you doing here?"

The pair had never exchanged many words, so Hermione was more than just a little confused by his casual demeanor. He had been six years ahead of them at school, and Hermione had really only spoken to him in mourning at the Battle Memorial Services. They had shared a joking conversation around the infinite chocolate fountain at Harry's and Ginny's engagement party, but as far Hermione was aware, they were not on touching terms- however, she decided she must have been aware wrong, since his arm was currently very much around her shoulder.

"I saw my ickle-ronnykin's best mate, and I realized that I was not nearly as well acquainted with her as I would like to be," smiled Charlie.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Planning for this year's Triwizard Tournament. They're starting up again, now that the war is over," he answered, "it's shaping up to be a big deal. A celebration, of sorts. So we're all starting the planning real early."

"Presumably your presence means there are going to e dragons again? Isn't that a bit… done?"

Charlie looked affronted, "First, love, dragons are never _done. _Secondly, it's completely different this year." He went on to animatedly explain something about how they were trying to include some more intellectual tasks, so they had to fetch different parts of the dragons, scales and whatnot, to brew a potion, all while under time and dragon pressure. Hermione had only been half paying attention, which was unusual for her, as she kept on getting distracted by Remus' presence at the professors' table, and the memory of what she had just done in his office. Charlie was in the midst of explaining how they were planning a conference to discuss ethics of collecting creature parts for potions, when she butted in.

"Are you really allowed to be telling me all this? Isn't this meant to be top-secret until the completion?"

His eyes widened as his face froze mid-sentence.

"Too right, Hermione, too right," he glanced about, making sure no one had overheard, "I'll appreciate your discretion. Shall we talk about something more interesting?"

Hermione looked at him, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice. Charlie broke into a rogue smile.

"Tell me, how is your love life? Who are you shagging?"

Hermione immediately thought of Remus, and involuntarily, her eyes flicked to him. Her face flushed at the memory of her hands under her skirt as she sat on his table, something that did not go unnoticed by Charlie. He followed her eyes, and landing on Professor Lupin, his jaw began to drop. Believing the flush on her face to confirm his suspicions, he let out a loud guffaw.

"You're shagging Professor Lupin?" he bleated happily, the grin on his face one of a child who had just found out something he was not supposed to.

"There's no shagging," she said, revealing more that she had intended in her answer.

"Meaning there's something else?"

"No, no, just… I have a little crush, is all," she said. She was not sure why she was revealing this information to Charlie, but his smile was disarming—until he heard the word crush, at which point it turned downright devilish.

"I can't wait to tell Ron!" he crowed.

"You can't! Please, Charlie, don't tell anyone, please," she begged.

Charlie's grin did not fade, but he still tilted his head and agreed.

"This is going to be fun, Granger. And does the dashing werewolf return your sentiments?"

Hermione shook her head, "I don't think so, how could he? I'm a student," she broke off, "could we not discuss this? It was a mistake for me to say anything."

Taking in the distressed look on her face, Charlie decided he had given her a hard enough time as was. They finished up their lunch, offhandedly discussing going-ons at the Burrow, and when Hermione stood up, Charlie followed suit.

"I'll be back here this Thursday, love," he said, "any interest in grabbing a pint at the Three Broomsticks? Or aren't you Gryffindor enough to sneak out?"

"I'm twenty," she answered, "Professor McGonagall has granted me permission to leave campus freely. But why are you interested in grabbing a pint with me all of a sudden?" She gave him a suspicious look. "We've barely exchanged two words, you know. For all I know, this maybe be part of some elaborate plot George has asked you to orchestrate."

Charlie held his hands up in a gesture of innocence, "No plot here, I swear," he said, "I just never took you for the type to lust after professors, is all. Now that I know the truth, I'm eager to learn what else I don't know about your mysterious ways."

Hermione looked unconvinced by his cheeky grin, and was opening her mouth to tell him so, when his face dropped to a more serious, and slightly apologetic expression.

"It may also have something to do with the fact that Ron and Harry accosted me when they found out I was going to be at Hogwarts every now and then to plan this thing, and demanded I check-in with you." At Hermione's indignant expression, he hastened to explain their behaviour, "they're just a little worried, pet. They know you're a bit older than the other students. Little did they know that you'd sorted the age issue out all right, you've got your eye on an older bloke, eh?" He tried to get her to crack a smile, but only managed an eye roll. "Come on, 'Mione, I'll meet you in the entrance hall at 9pm? I'll even grab some Hangover Potions from Diagon Alley just in case you want to get pissed," he winked.

Hermione finally nodded, agreeing, and he sauntered out of the Hall. She followed suit and headed out, finishing out her classes for the day barely paying attention. If someone had asked her to give a single sentence on what Binns had gone on about, there was no way she would have been able to answer. She began to climb the stairs absentmindedly, her mind on Remus, when the staircase she was on began to move when she was a few steps away from the landing.

She hurried to the top, and pushed off, hopping across the small gap, when she saw a young looking fourth year on a landing below her out of the corner of her eye. She glanced down at him, puzzled by the awed expression on his face, when suddenly a breeze came along, and she was reminded that she was not wearing panties. And she had just hopped over a gap, right above where he was standing, giving him a very clear line of sight right up her skirt... _Oh dear, _Hermione thought, and she turned bright pink. She was so embarrassed that she darted down the hall and jumped into the nearest empty room, shutting the door behind her and turning her back against it, sliding down to sit on the floor.

Her skirt had slid up with the door, leaving her bare bottom exposed to the cool stone floor. She leaned her head back against the door, sighing with embarrassment, and trying to figure out what she was doing. Of course, that action was quickly displaced by the distracting thoughts that came up of her daring actions with Remus just an hour earlier. She pictured the expression on his face when she had opened her eyes, the sound of his voice when he commanded her to continue... The cool floor on her skin felt so good, and reminded her of the fact that Remus was currently in possession of her panties. She started to get aroused all over again, and shifted her hips. Being so aroused in a place where anyone could walk in felt thrilling, and Hermione was starting to feel that familiar urge to slip her hand under her skirt and relieve the tension.

Suddenly she heard footsteps in the hall, and she bolted up, trying to get her breathing under control. The footsteps receded, but her head cleared a little, and she decided to head to her room. After giving the password she had set to the portrait, she lay down on her bed. Her mind was swirling with sexual thoughts in a way that it never had before. It was making it hard for her to focus on her daily activities- if it kept up much longer, she was going to seriously fall behind in her studies. _Maybe what I need is a good shag, _she thought, smiling wryly- Hermione had never thought _that _sentence before.

That thought reminded her of a small potion bottle lying in her nightstand drawer. Before leaving to Hogwarts, she and Ginny had spent a "Girls Day" together. They had shared a bottle of wine- and it was when Hermione had let herself get made over. At some point during the course of the day, Hermione confessed that she had trouble getting off during sex, since she was always so distracted by what her partner might be thinking, or how she was performing. Ginny had grinned conspiratorially, and had pulled out a small flask out her trunk, hidden in a pair of socks.

"I found this in the Wizard Wheezes stock, while helping George pack things up, after... the Battle. I pocketed a few bottles to try out with Harry- let's just say they were quite the success," Ginny had whispered.

"What is it?" Hermione remembered inquiring.

"It's an Arousal Elixir. It basically makes you really randy, and not only does it make it easier to lose yourself in the moment, but when you finally, you know..." she had hesitated before deciding that she was past the point of discretion, "orgasm, it's insanely powerful. It's bloody wonderful. Works too even if you're flying solo," Ginny had smirked, "I had to experiment by myself before trying it with Harry, of course."

Hermione fingered the vial nervously, reading the label. It recommended two drops on the tongue, and also cautioned not to fly any broomsticks or apparate within two hours, as it may cause drowsiness and distraction. She weighed her options, before saying to hell with it, and dropped the drops on her tongue.

She sat in bed waiting for a reaction, and started to let her mind wander. Her thoughts came back to where they had spent most of the day, on her fantasies with Remus. Every moment she had shared with him began to replay in her mind as if she were reliving them. A moan escaped her lips, and she realized the potion must have taken effect.

If she had thought she would be able to keep quiet, she was entirely wrong, and she was thankful for her private living area. She suddenly felt entirely overdressed and removed her clothes, spreading her legs and lying back on her bed. The new level of exposure only served to arouse her more, and she suddenly began to wish desperately she was back in that bed with Remus, with his hard cock pressed against her. Then again, she had a feeling that if she were in that bed with Remus now, he would have most definitely woken up to her unzipping his pants.

Hermione began to touch herself, but it felt as if it was not enough. She wanted hands everywhere, she wanted to be filled, and her two small hands were not quite up to the task. She slipped a few fingers inside of herself, and involuntarily, her hips began to buck. She picked up her pace, imagining it was Remus' hands inside of her. She came powerfully, and lay on the bed breathing for a few moments, but soon the arousal started to grow again. Unbidden, her hands travelled south, and worked her to completion, even louder and more intense than her last. She went through the same routine once more, before the continued arousal started to leave her too sensitive, and she was not sure her body could handle another orgasm.

Assuming everyone was in bed at the late hour, she decided to get some fresh air. She threw on a loose cotton muggle dress of hers, pulled on some shoes, and began her walk. The cool air felt good on her skin, and although she still could feel the warm tug in her gut, she was slowly coming down from the potion. Thinking that maybe a shot of firewhisky would help calm things, she changed her direction from the Astronomy Tower to the study, where she remembered Remus had showed her the Marauders' stash.

When she opened the door and saw Remus' figure on a sofa, she wondered why she had thought that coming to a place she _knew_ that the center of her fantasies frequented while she was still hopped up on the Arousal Elixir had been a good idea. She decided to make it her mission to get in and out of the room as quickly and with as little interaction as possible.

Remus turned in surprise, sloshing some of his drink on him. He had spent the better part of the last hour, after giving up on his lesson plans, thinking of the woman standing in front of him. _Why, _he thought, _why does she always wear the damndest things? _She was clearly not wearing a bra, and her light dress looked like it had been fitted to her original, smaller bra size- not for the plump breasts that were currently straining against the sheer fabric.

Hermione hurried over to grab a cup, quickly explaining along the way that she had been having difficulty sleeping, and came for a walk and a quick drink to clear her mind. Remus restrained a slight sound of disapproval from escaping at her mention of having a drink, considering he had been doing the exact same thing. She walked over to grab the bottle he was offering, trying to ignore the arousal that was resurfacing from Remus' presence, but when their fingers brushed, she whimpered.

She poured her glass quickly, and decided that if she could only just steal a few brushes of contact from him, she would leave. Even though having him watch her in his office had been sexy as hell, she craved more contact from him. She sipped on her drink and sat down next to him on the sofa, allowing their legs to remain in contact. Her hand itched to touch him, to grab his arm and drag his hands all over her, to feel him. She settled with laying her hand on his upper thigh, and turning towards him so her breasts were slightly pressed against his arm, vaguely asking him what he was doing in the study room. The friction on her nipples when she had pressed herself into him was heavenly, and she knew her eyes had fluttered shut wantonly. She could only hope that Remus had already drank a few glasses and could not register her desire.

Even though they had shared quite the moment in his office earlier that day, she could not help but feel that it was inappropriate to feel so aroused next to him. Still, the potion still maintained a certain level of control over her, so she was unable to stop herself. She tried to subtly rub her nipples back against his arm to recreate the sensation, this time moaning slightly.

Remus could barely breathe. He was not sure what had possessed Hermione to sit down and act this way, but he could not find it within himself to tell her to stop. Her face was flushed with arousal. Even though he had just seen them less than half a day ago, he desperately wanted to see her breasts, which were peeking over the hem of her dress, tempting him.

"Please stop rubbing me like that," he asked throatily, "I'm not sure what will happen if you don't stop."

"Fuck, Remus," Hermione cursed, the coil inside of her tightly wound, "I really need to come." She found herself being more direct than she had ever been in her entire life.

Remus' cock grew harder than he thought possible at those words. His eyes were glued to her heaving chest, and he desperately wanted to slip his hand under her dress to help her along.

"Please, Remus, touch me?"

"No," he answered raspily, "no touching. We can't do that." He was vaguely proud of himself for at least having some limits. As long as he didn't touch her, he told himself, nothing really happened. Watching is harmless, he reasoned. He licked his lips, "you can touch yourself though. Pull your dress down. Let me see your tits."

She did so happily, the tight fabric at the hemline lewdly pushing her exposed breasts together and up. She quickly pushed her dress up to her hips, and two of her fingers dipped inside of her, pumping in and out quickly. He was transfixed by the sight of her fingers working quickly, and was quickly losing his self-control.

"Add another finger," he commanded, "and use your right hand to play with your nipples."

Hermione happily obeyed, relinquishing herself to his voice, and taking in the sensation. She felt completely under his control, and the feeling of abandon was arousing her further than she even thought possible. She was alternating between loud pants and moans, and was spreading her legs wide open, relishing the feel of Remus' eyes on her.

"Remus, I want to feel you inside of me, please," she begged. Remus' breath hitched, enjoying the sound of desperation in her voice.

"Take your dress off, and get on the table with your legs spread wide," he commanded instead, and Hermione frantically obeyed. He used that same binding spell to keep her ankles apart. She was gasping and moaning, and her hips were bucking frantically at her hand. Hermione felt completely exposed and vulnerable, and completely turned on.

"Shh, Hermione," said Remus, "You wouldn't want Filch to hear you." She shook her head, and he pulled out her panties from earlier from his pocket. He hoped that she didn't notice that he had been carrying them around with him all day. Deliberately, he stuffed them in her mouth. He could tell she was trying, albeit unsuccessfully to stifle her sounds of desire, which somehow made the entire situation even hotter.

"I'm going to come," she moaned, muffled, through the panties.

"You can't come until I tell you that you can, Hermione," he paused, watching for her reaction. Her groan of frustration was laced with desire, and Remus took that as acceptance. "Is that understood?" When she didn't answer, he repeated his question, "I said, is that understood?"

"Yes, yes," she moaned, "Please, can I come?" Her could only barely make out her words as they were muffled, but it was easy enough to understand her meaning. He could tell her ankles were pulling at their binds, and her hands had slowed down, only her hips were still moving frantically.

The combination of the situation, which was hands down the sexiest she had ever been in, with the arousal potion, was making staving off her orgasm near impossible. She had nearly come just from Remus putting her panties in her mouth, and she felt like she was on the verge of tears.

She was unable to cover up the desperation and need in her voice as she begged Remus to let her come.

"Please, please, can I come? I need to come," she babbled, "I can't... Please..." Hearing herself trying to talk through her gag made her even more aroused even though it completely betrayed how much she was at Remus' will.

"Stop touching yourself," Remus demanded, curious to see if she would obey. He desperately wanted to watch her orgasm, but he was enjoying being able to control the young witch's arousal. She immediately obeyed, her hands floundering wildly at her sides, her frustration vocal.

"I can't, I can't, I need to... I need to..." her moans were desperate. Her hips were thrashing, her ankles still on the table. She was completely exposed to Remus, her hands at her sides, and she was so wet that she was dripping on the table. She looked like she was going to cry, but still, she made no motion to disobey, only begging. Her breasts were bouncing wildly, and Remus had never more wanted to shed his clothes and fuck her until she was raw. Reminding himself, _no touching_, he controlled his breath.

Taking pity on her, Remus finally gave in.

"Come for me, Hermione," and she did. Without even touching herself, as soon as he spoke the words, her body began convulsing on the table. Her orgasm felt like it lasted longer than she had even thought possible, and after the tides finally began to recede, she lay on the table, her legs still open, panting. Remus' breath was still coming hard as hers began to calm, since he had not gotten the release she had. She was still lying on the table, exposed, with her panties in her mouth, and she was not sure what to do. She had never done anything remotely like that before. Finally, Remus waved his wand, and the panties and the bonds vanished.

She climbed off the table. Mimicking the situation from earlier that day, Hermione slipped on her dress, and parted with a question.

"Animagus practice tomorrow?" Remus nodded in response.

Right before she fell into a deep sleep, she realized that it had now been three times that she had come near Remus, but she had not yet once seen him come. She vaguely vowed to change that, still somewhat influenced by the arousal elixir. Soon after, she had the best sleep she had in years.

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_A/N: As always, reviews make me do a happy dance! _


	7. Chapter 7

Remus slept very little the rest of that night. He had a short wank immediately after Hermione exited the study. As soon as he had come, a wave of revulsion and self-loathing hit him. He'd had a few drinks before Hermione had walked in, but there was nothing to justify what he had just allowed to happen with a girl that was not only almost twenty years his junior, but in fact a student of his.

He started to count in his head. She had been no more than an egg in her mum's womb when he was losing his virginity in the Prefects Bathroom. After he had graduated from Hogwarts and had been searching for a job, and fighting for the Order, she was still nursing on her mum's tit. He was disgusting. He finished nearly a bottle of whiskey that night.

He drunkenly climbed to the Astronomy Tower, to further wallow in his misery and disgust. A crescent moon stared down at him tauntingly. It was as if he reveled in being an outcast with no chance of getting a job. First a werewolf, now a lecherous pervert.

In anger, he threw the nearing empty bottle of firewhisky against the wall, following it with his fist. His bone made a crunching sound as it hit the stone wall, and he stared emptily at the glass around his feet. The sun was beginning to rise, and he half heartedly vanished as much glass as he could before stumbling to his room. He drank a preventative Hangover Potion, and smoothed some salve over his hand, not daring to risk healing it in his state.

A few hours went by, and soon, it was time to rise for breakfast. Both Remus and Hermione woke up with similar sickening feelings in their stomachs. She was smiling as she woke up, but the transition from dreamland to reality quickly faded her smile. She felt as if her heartbeat slowed to a crawl when she remembered what she had done the previous night, under the influence of the Arousal Elixir.

Losing her virginity had been nothing like this. Really, she had barely felt different the day after her first time. She had vaguely looked around, trying to determine if the strangers around her could tell, but it had been quickly obvious that they were oblivious. She had not felt different, nor had anyone else noticed a difference, it had been as if nothing had changed.

Now, Hermione felt different. She felt as if she was seeing the world through different eyes. She was ashamed of what she had done, of how she had acted. She quickly got dressed, planning to retreat to her comfort zone: she planned to find the most laborious and dry tome possible in the library, and spend the hour before classes reading it.

The Arousal Elixir had caused her to act irrationally, but Remus had no way to know why she had acted as she had. But she had known he was drunk. The blame rested solely with her. Doing her best to avoid eye contact with the other students, she made her way to the library. She had pulled on her largest sweater when getting dressed, and was clutching her cloak tight around her.

How would she face Professor Lupin ever again, now that he had seen her like that? How angry would he be—after she had acted so ridiculously in front of him? As Hermione berated herself in the library, Remus was asking himself similar questions in his chambers.

The Hangover Potion had done a great deal of work , but his head still had a slight ache, as a reminder of his night's activities. He tried to rationalize the nausea as a side effect of the hangover, but he knew its root truly stemmed from his guilt from his actions from the night prior.

The duo both suffered through the day in as much silence as possible—a task that Remus found rather more difficult than Hermione. At final count, he had taken 16 points from Slytherin, 9 from Gryffindor, and 4 from Hufflepuff. In retrospect, he told himself, he should have assigned silent readings for the day.

Hermione went to the study right after dinner. She had no idea if Professor Lupin would show for their scheduled Animagus practice or not—or even whether or not she wanted him to. But there was something inside of her that was stirring, and she was at a loss of what to do. She had acted out last night in a way she never had before. It was something that was one part brazen, one part meek—she had spoken to him audaciously, but had also followed him commands without a second thought- that the combination of which frightened her. As guilty and foul she felt from her actions, there was still a part of her that begged to be spread eagle in front of her _Professor_ once more, at his willing command. The war she felt brewing inside, between the guilt and the pleasure, left her feeling numb and weak on the outside.

She was staring blankly out the window when she heard the door open, but made no sudden gesture to greet the new entrance. It was only once she heard Remus' voice call her name that she began to slowly turn. She greeted him as if nothing was different, although she felt her voice let the truth slip past with a nervous quaver.

She pulled her notes from her bag slowly, and the pair sat on opposite sides of the table, unlike their meetings in the past, where their legs had brushed as they sat beside each other on the sofa. She tried not to think about what she had done the night before on that very table, and tried even harder not to get aroused, but failed miserably at both tasks, feeling guilt in the back of her throat as she grew damp with arousal.

Remus had been valiantly attempting the vary same task, but when his werewolf senses picked up the smell of Hermione's wetness, the guilt and perverse excitement both crashed back upon him like a wave. As he realized how horribly he had corrupted the young witch, he slowly resigned himself to what had to be done. He drew his wand out under the table, and half-heartedly, he lifted it to her.

"_Oblivi—_" he began, but Hermione had been hyper-aware of his every action, and before the spell had even begun to leave his lips, her wand had been lifted, casting a protection spell that sent his jet of light into a nearby window, shattering it.

Hermione stared at Remus, wand up, her jaw hanging, aghast. A chilly evening breeze drifted in through the newly shattered opening. She knew he had been repulsed by her, but to alter her memory… She felt pathetic.

"I'm sorry," she said, softly, "I know what I did was wrong, and foolish. I am so sorry that I took advantage of you like that, while you were inebriated. I feel rather deplorable myself, so I can imagine how I must have looked from your point of view—and I know you must be worried that I'm going to try to use my position to some advantage," her voice broke, and after a slight hesitation, grew stronger, "but none of that gives you the right to alter my memories. I will not tell anyone about what happened, I can promise you that. I feel guilty enough as it is for my actions, I have no interesting in bringing more guilt upon me."

When Hermione began to explain how she felt foolish and pathetic, Remus thought he might be sick right in front of her. Hearing it from her was worse than he could have imagined. He had thought she might feel used, or taken advantage of, but to imagine she felt like she had been the one in the wrong, when she had truly been the victim was appalling. In all honesty, her speech only doubled his desire to wipe the memory from her mind, but his rational thoughts triumphed over his emotional ones. To not only have played with her body but also her mind would really only be a further violation.

"That's not… Hermione. Please. I was in the wrong, and you are innocent. It was foolish of me to think that obliviating you would help anything, but you have to realize, I only hoped that it would relieve some of the burden you must be bearing, that my actions caused," he paused, and looked into her eyes that were intently watching him, so wide that he could see the entire iris, "I apologize for what happened. I will turn in my resignation to Minerva this evening."

"No! Professor, please, if I had to think that I had caused you to leave Hogwarts… Is there any way that we could simply put this behind us, and act as if it had never happened?"

Remus was supposed to be the responsible adult figure here. Just because she claimed that his leaving would hurt her, he was not supposed to simply accept it and move on, since his remaining at Hogwarts would clearly be inappropriate. He was supposed to do the right thing, but the truth was, if Hermione had given him a look of relief at the proposal of his resignation, and had been fervently in favor of the idea, as much as Remus would have liked to imagine otherwise, she may have found herself at the receiving end of another _Obliviate_. He knew that if he left Hogwarts again, this time it would be permanent. And as such, it was with little hesitation that Remus agreed to the witch's suggestion.

They sat in an awkward silence for a few moments, before Hermione sprung up and declared she was tired, rushing off to bed. Remus leaned back, and let out a sigh. Now that Hermione had left the room, and her presence was no longer constantly reminding him of how screwed up he was, he was having a difficult time repressing the images of her curvy body spread out and yielding on the very table they had been studying on. She had happily filled every request he'd made, as if she were craving the release he provided. It was completely not what Remus associated with Hermione Granger, the bookworm, the know-it-all, the goody-two-shoes. The kind of girl that… Well not that he had ever really thought about it, but if he had been asked he would have said he'd assumed she was the kind of girl that did not like to think about sex, let alone act like… _that._

The part of his mind that was controlled by his dick was trying to convince him to repeat the experience. Even after the painful conversation he had just had, rehashing everything and plodding through their respective guilty consciences, he could not help but remind himself of the smell of her arousal as they sat across from each other earlier. If she had been scarred by the experience, he told himself, then why would she have felt that she had taken advantage of him, and not the other way around? The professor knew that these were the words of a guilty man trying to rationalize his crimes, but there was still a part of him that agreed. He wanted to bang his head against the table in frustration, but he knew that it would not change the fact that he desperately wanted to fuck Hermione Granger.

Back in her room, Hermione was lying on her bed, eyes shut, trying to fall asleep. She had been miserable all day, but the conversation with Professor Lupin had somehow made her feel better—maybe it was the part about him not blaming her. Still, it had been a long twenty-four hours, and she just wanted to fall into a deep sleep and not think about anything.

Unfortunately, that tugging need she was beginning to grow familiar with lately would not leave her alone, begging to be tended to. She slipped her hand between her legs, and her mind started to drift to where else but her dashing werewolf professor. Why did he have to be so damn irresistible? She had never felt like this about anyone else before. Like any teenage girl, she'd had crushes over the years, but no one had ever driven her to feel like she barely had control over her actions. Even though they had both agreed to not touch and to forget, she still really wanted him, badly. Maybe she just really did need to get laid—that's the sort of thing Ginny would tell her. Of course, the last suggestion she had taken from Ginny had not been the most successful…

Deciding to put her problem solving to rest for the day, she focused on her fantasy. On the one hand, there was a slight worry that fantasizing about Remus would only make it harder for her to resist him when he was actually in flesh and blood next to her… On the other hand, there was the memory of him staring at her as she masturbated in front of him, stark naked. She could feel his eyes on her most intimate parts, the exposure, the scandalous feeling of behaving so recklessly not only in what felt like a public room, but in front of her sexy older professor. _Wrong, wrong, wrong, _she tried to tell herself, but she orgasmed anyway, and fell asleep soon after, her self-reprimands rather ineffective.

The next morning, as she descended the stairs to breakfast, she thought of sex no less than five times on the stairs alone. She had counted. This was not normal, and she was seriously considering joining a nunnery to stop the madness. Or, maybe that was the wrong approach—maybe she should just find someone to shag. Hermione peered around at the other students, and quickly decided there was no way she was going to shag any of them. Not only was the oldest boy still almost two years younger than her, but even he looked like a child in her eyes. How did people do this sort of thing? Was she supposed to go to a bar and just meet someone?

Of course, she could just go into her professor's office and… Yeah. Right. If there was a solution to her mounting sexual frustration, it was rather obvious that Remus Lupin was not it. She decided to go visit Ginny later that night, and made a mental note to ask Professor McGonagall if she had set up her room's fireplace to be accessible by floo. She ran up to the Owlry to confirm the visit with Ginny before class, studiously avoiding any eye contact with the professor's table.

After classes were over (she had lost count somewhere around lunch, but was pretty sure by the end of the day, the number of times sex had come to mind had been over eighty five, an alarmingly high figure for her), she changed into more comfortable clothing, planning on hopping over to Ginny's after doing some homework, and reading a chapter of a book that she hoped would shed some insight on a project she had been working on relating to apparating. The original intention of the visit with the youngest Weasley had been to have a glass of wine and do some serious girl talk, but after what had felt like a ridiculously long day, she did not want to have to think about any of that stuff. Hopefully, Ginny would have something to complain about from Auror Training, and Hermione could focus on someone else's problems for a while. Besides, girl talk had never been Hermione's forte, and she was not too sure she felt brave enough to approach the whole subject of sex without at least half a bottle of wine in her.

She got so caught up in her work that by the time she glanced up at the clock, it was already half an hour past when she had told Ginny she would be popping by, so she finished the sentence she had been reading and quickly hopped in the fire.

The fireplace in Ginny's apartment was in her bedroom, so when Hermione stumbled out of the floo rather ungraciously, she landed in a pile of dirty laundry. As she stood up to brush herself off, Ginny opened the door and stuck her head in. After ascertaining that it was indeed Hermione who she had heard crash in, she let out a little squeal and ran towards the pretty brunette to give her a hug, carefully balancing a half-full glass of white wine in one of her hands.

"Has it really only been two weeks!" crowed Ginny, squeezing Hermione tightly. "I've missed your swotty little arse around here, ya know."

"Ginny," Hermione pulled back to look her in the eye, "are you drunk? By yourself? And it's a Wednesday…"

"Oh I didn't tell you in my owl? I've invited the gang over for a couple rounds," as she waved her hand vaguely towards the sitting room, Harry began to poke his head around the door, waving at Hermione, "we're celebrating. Harry, here" At this, Ginny put her arm around his neck, sloshing a couple drops of wine on him, "disarmed me during practice. _Wandlessly._"

"Harry, that's amazing! That's really impressive work," said Hermione, beaming at him, "still, it is a Wednesday…" she tutted, eyes on the glass in Ginny's hand, who responded by putting the glass to Hermione's lips and getting her to drink.

Harry chuckled, "I see you haven't changed in the two weeks since we've last seen you," clapping his hand on her arm warmly, when his eyes squinted and he tilted his head to the side, "Wait, you have changed. Doesn't she look different, Gin?" His eyes looked Hermione up and down, trying to locate the change.

Ginny sort of hummed in agreement, and her eyes were making the same movements as Harry's. The couple's eyes both widened in recognition at the same time, but Harry found himself rather more speechless than Ginny. Hermione was still standing there, confused and vaguely worried that they had somehow been able to see what she had done with Remus, when Ginny screeched.

"Your tits!" she yelled, spilling what was left of her wine as she gesticulated wildly, "Bloody hell! They're magnificent!"

Apparently, Ginny's screeching had drawn in the remainder of the group from the other room, as soon Ron appeared from behind the door as well, an inquisitive look on his face. He did not take as long to process the change as Harry and Ginny did, his jaw dropping the instant he set his eyes on Hermione. She heard Charlie's voice in the hall, asking Ron what was going on. Hermione felt rather naked, and was really wishing she had put on something less form fitting than her cashmere sweater.

"Hermione's tits got huge," Ron told Charlie, not taking his eyes off Hermione.

Charlie squeezed into the room, and glanced at Hermione.

"Yeah, I thought so, when I saw you the other day! I remember thinking that, when you leaned over to reach for the pumpkin juice and your shirt—" upon noticing Hermione glaring at him, he broke off. The room grew silent, and Hermione was acutely aware of everyone's eyes on her.

"Oh, come off it," she said, finally finding her voice, "you've all seen tits much bigger than mine," crossing her arms over her chest. She did not like the idea of being ogled like a piece of meat, although she was slightly proud of the fact that her new cleavage was able to maintain such devoted attention, not that she would ever admit it.

"Yeah, but they never changed sizes overnight…" Ginny said, her eyes asking Hermione for the story. The three men in the room were still slightly distracted by the chest in question. Ginny noticed Hermione's discomfort, and suggested they get her a drink and sit down, grabbing her elbow, "I still want the story," she said in sing-song.

Glass of wine in hand, she repeated the story, the expectant looks on the men's faces dropping into ones of anger and outrage when they found out what the Slytherins had done to her.

"Now," she finished, "could we please talk about something _other_ than my tits?"

Soon, Ron began a story about a new product he had been helping George develop, that they had tested on themselves, and the focus shifted away from Hermione. As the evening went on, the conversation began to fracture into smaller groups, and Charlie slung an arm around Hermione's shoulder.

"Since I've checked in with Harry and Ron, I suppose you don't have to get a drink with me at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow," said Hermione.

"Well, I don't _have_ to do anything, pet, I'm a grown man," Charlie smiled roguishly, "what I'd _like_ to do is grab a pint with you. I'll be needing some pleasant company after spending two hours in a meeting with the planning committee."

"And how do you know I'm pleasant company? For all you know, I'm a teetotaler that will do nothing but give you a stern talking to," she replied.

"Well, for one, I know that's your third glass of wine, and I know you have class tomorrow. And for another," he waggled his eyebrows, "I know you're looking to bed your _much_ older professor…"

Hermione smacked him on the arm, glancing at the others to be sure no one had overheard. Seeing they were all engrossed in their respective conversations, she leaned back into Charlie's warm arm, enjoying the feel of his strong bicep curled around her. She glanced down at his far arm, reaching across him to lightly trace the tattoo wrapped around him with her finger.

"Doesn't Bill have one like this?" she asked.

"We got them together," answered Charlie, his fingers tracing patterns on her arm, "I went to visit him, in Egypt. Had a bit of a… night on the town, shall we say. Woke up the next morning with these. Can't say I mind it though, I like how it looks. 'S got that bad boy look to it, am I right?"

"I bet that's how you get all the girls, with your bad boy look" Hermione poked his stomach playfully, her breath catching slightly when she found his abs unexpectedly rock solid. Charlie grabbed her hand, and she got that tight feeling in the back of her throat.

"It's getting late, love," he said, "let's get you back to Hogwarts."

"I can get myself back to Hogwarts, thank you," Hermione answered primly, "I'm not a child."

"I fancy a walk around the Lake by myself, is all."

Hermione eyed him carefully. She did have classes the next morning, and she knew that if she stayed at Ginny's much longer, she was going to have at least two or three more glasses of wine, which was not the best idea. She acquiesced to Charlie's request, and hugged Ginny goodbye. The redhead made to get up to see her guests off, but Hermione saw that she was engrossed in an animated conversation with Harry and Ron, so she pressed her to stay seated.

Charlie followed her to Ginny's room, and grabbed the pot of floo powder, holding it out for her. She threw a handful into the fire, glancing back at Charlie briefly before calling out her destination. Charlie followed suit shortly after, copying her actions.

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_A/N: Thank you for the reviews! I love them so much. :) You guys are the best!_


	8. Chapter 8

The pair stood in Hermione's lounge. The witch flopped back onto her couch, and sighed. Charlie sat down next to her, lazily bringing a boot-clad foot to rest beside him on the sofa. Hermione glanced at his dirty boot on the clean fabric with a look of disapproval, but let her eyes flit away, becoming unfocused.

"Go on then. What is it?" Charlie prodded.

Hermione felt buzzy from the wine. She was enjoying the feeling of a warm body sitting next to her. The fire crackled, and she waved her wand absentmindedly to rekindle some of the flames, thinking about the things she had done with Remus.

"When did I become such a sex-obsessed maniac?"

"Okay, whoa," Charlie said, "not what I was expecting to come out of your mouth. But hey, I'm all ears." He gave her a cheeky grin and an expectant look.

The minute the words left her mouth, Hermione regretted them. Wine: bad. Firewhiskey: bad. Arousal elixir: _very _bad. When was she going to learn these things? She had not been acting like herself. At all. If she did some self-analysis, she probably would have concluded that she was using the alcohol for that very reason, to not be herself. But Hermione had never been particularly fond of self-analysis when it came to things like this.

"I'm sorry," she blurted, "I'm sure you don't want to have to talk about this stuff with me."

"Love, what gives you the idea that a man would not want to talk about sex with a pretty girl?" Charlie asked, raising an eyebrow. Hermione blushed, but she made no motion to continue the discussion. "All right, I get the message. I'm going to head out for my walk. But don't think I've given up… I'll get you talking tomorrow."

"It's rather irresponsible, isn't it, to go out drinking two week nights in a row?" said Hermione.

"That's what they make hangover potion for," Charlie chucked.

"What if Professor McGonagall revokes my position as Head Girl?" Hermione wrung her hangs, her mind suddenly imagining hundreds of horrid scenarios playing out.

"Have you been shirking your duties?"

"Of course not!" Hermione gave him an affronted look.

"Then why would McGonagall revoke your position? We'll do some patrol rounds before heading out tomorrow, if that makes you feel better," he offered.

The brunette visibly relaxed, and Charlie took that as his cue to say goodnight, and head off for his walk.

Remus had also chosen to escape the castle to clear his mind, and had somehow found himself dragged to a loud nightclub by his drinking buddy, Ludo Bagman. The former quidditch player was quite the partier, and had seized at the opportunity to go out when Remus had owled.

"I just don't understand why I'm letting myself act this way with someone so young," Remus grumbled. He felt safe enough complaining about the whole thing with Ludo, as removed as he was from both the Hogwarts and the Golden Trio circles. They had grown close while Remus had been working the odd job as a freelance writer for a publisher that was compiling a quidditch almanac, and Bagman had been taken on as a consult.

The two men were standing at a table, resting their elbows and drinks on it as they talked loudly at each other over the music, Remus explaining his dilemma with Hermione. A girl wearing a short dress, form fitting on top around her ample cleavage and tight stomach, and swishing out playfully past her hips was standing around her group of seated friends nearby, playing with her wand and laughing.

Remus and Ludo watched absentmindedly as she charmed the alcohol from her shot glass into the shape of a wet, vodka-y fish, wiggling around her in the air as she pointed her wand, her movements a little tipsy. She tripped a little on her high heels, and as one of her friends stabled her, she smiled a white, toothy grin.

"Would you fuck her?" Ludo asked.

"Excuse me " Remus said, "but I don't just go around fucking people willy-nilly! I like to have a mutual attraction that's—" Ludo cut him off, lazily waving a hand in his face.

"All right, all right. Say you've properly wooed her, you're both besotted with each other, yeah? If she's down on her knees, looking up at you with those big eyes, unbuttoning your trousers, would you push her mouth away from your cock 'cause she's too young?"

Remus raked his eyes over the pretty girl, picturing the image in his head. "Too young? No, but I don't see what she has to do with Hermione…"

"Oy! Kitten, come 'ere," Ludo called over to the girl, who turned around with a smile. She swanned over and stood in front of them, her head tilted in slight question, still wearing her drunkenly pretty smile. Ludo continued, "will you settle a bet between my mate and me? How old are you?"

The charmed fish-shaped vodka shot, which had followed her over, more of a shapeless blob than anything while she had focused on walking, swished around Remus' and Ludo's heads, dripping a drop or two of alcohol on them. She opened her mouth to accept the swimming fish, and grimaced slightly at the burn of the alcohol as she swallowed it. "Twenty one," she said. She paused briefly, an expectant look on her face. "So? Which one of you wins dibs on me?"

Remus hastened to explain that the bet was not like that, but Ludo cut him off, throwing his arm around her, "that would be me, love."

As Ludo pulled his new interest to the bar to buy her a drink, he turned his head back to Remus to mouth "_One year!" _while pointing at the woman in his arm.

It was hard to believe that Hermione was only one year younger than the flirty blonde. He could not picture her smiling at men in dark clubs the same way that the girl in front of him just had, not scared or shying away from the attention. To be fair, he would not have thought to picture her naked and spread out on a table until just over a week ago, but now that image was firmly planted in his mind. He started to get the rumblings of a hard on, and he tried to focus on something else before he got to the point that he would have to go to the loo to work one out.

At that moment, one of the earlier blonde's friends came over and rested her manicured hand on his arm, her chipped blue nail polish sort of a subconscious reminder to Remus of her young age. She smiled the same toothy grin her friend had, and leaned into his ear to talk over the music.

"She gonna be safe with your mate?" she asked, failing to appear as concerned as the question implied.

"He's not evil."

The girl shrugged, accepting his response. Her hand moved from his arm up to his neck, playing with the tips of his hair. He did not particularly have an interest in her—sure, she was pretty, and, well, he didn't have any basis on which to judge her character, but so far, she had not tried to murder him, so there were some points right there—but even so, he stayed immobile and he let her continue to play with his hair. He was not the kind of bloke who attracted twenty-somethings at nightclubs with flashing lights to come back to his flat. He was not the kind of bloke that started things with his students. He liked sex, he liked tits, he liked watching a pretty girl giggle. But he'd thought he had a modicum of self-control.

After some brief consideration, he began to disengage himself from the girl's touch, telling himself that he was not in the mood for a one-night stand. The truth was, he was afraid that if he allowed himself to move forward with someone near Hermione's age, he would not be able to hold back when it came to his actions with Hermione herself.

The next day in class, Lupin had planned a hands-on session, where the Slytherins and the Gryffindors would pair up to practice an enemy detection spell that would point one's wand towards anyone considering casting a curse on them. Minerva had become a strong pioneer of inter-house relations, and had insisted that any pairings between students be outside of their houses.

Remus had the students line up, the two houses facing opposite each other. He flicked his wand and cast a charm that randomly paired up his students, linking the pairs with a jet of blue light that faded after half a minute. It only made sense for him to call up the best student in the class to assist him with a demonstration, but he was still doing his bust to studiously avoid talking, looking or thinking about Hermione, so he decided to forgo that, trusting his students to be able to handle an easy enough spell.

Hermione walked towards her assigned partner. He had been a year underneath her—she recognized him as having trailed Malfoy around at some point.

"Robin Zlor," he introduced himself.

"Hermione Granger," she answered, "would you like to be the attacker first, or the defender?"

With no preparation, he shot a tickling jinx at her, which she had to jump to the side to avoid. The jumping action caused the top button of her shirt to undo itself, mostly due to the fact that the shirt had not been properly resized for her new chest size. Unfortunately, this new exposure did not go unnoticed to Robin.

"Looks like your shirt's a little too small for you, eh, Granger?" He leered at her, "I wonder why."

Hermione remembered him as one of the Slytherins who had been intensely studying his food when she had been hit by the curse in the Great Hall. Her nostrils flared, but she was too embarrassed to respond. She turned away from him to button her shirt, using her wand to cast a binding charm to ensure it would not happen again.

"I take it that by shooting the jinx you meant to imply that you wanted to attack first?" Hermione asked. Zlor nodded haughtily, lifting an eyebrow. She was nervous about having to make herself vulnerable at his mercy, but she did not want to give him that satisfaction of knowing that, so she slipped on the blindfold. Professor Lupin had put on some music, so that it would be hard to hear the position of the attacker. With the blindfold on too, Hermione would have to trust her ability to cast the detection spell fast enough, having a feeling he would not wait the full forty-five seconds as had been specified for the task before shooting a stinging hex at her.

She stood in place, and called out to start the task. She focused on the wand work, and started to feel her wand tug her to turn towards her right, but before even six seconds could have passed, Zlor had hit her with the hex, aiming for her exposed leg at the bottom of her skirt. She yelped, and stepped back, tumbling over a book bag that she was sure had not been there before she had put on the blindfold, knowing it's sudden appearance in her path was not random. She ripped off the blindfold, irritated with the Slytherin boy's behavior. Before she had even got a word out, he stood towering over her with a sneer on his face.

"Interesting," he said, "seems like you're less of a war hero, and more of a defenseless little girl when the great Harry Potter's not around."

"Want to bet on that? Keep trying me," she seethed.

"Oh, sorry! Just an observation," he smirked, "I wasn't trying anything. Shall you be the attacker now?"

As he stood in front of her blindfolded, her hand was itching to take advantage of his vulnerability, but she decided to be the better person—especially since she was Head Girl. He took longer than she had to get the spell working, but she dutifully counted down from forty-five in her head, waiting. She saw him retry the wand work three times before she it began to tug him in her direction. When the wand stopped pulling, he shot a disarming spell, and Hermione's wand jumped out of her hand only a few seconds before she was meant to hex him.

Remus, who had been ambling through and watching the pairs practice, stopped to watch Zlor's attempt.

"Good work, Mr. Zlor," he paused, turning to address Hermione, "and did you successfully disarm your partner as well?"

"No," Zlor butted in, answering for her, "I got her with the stinging hex. You probably need to practice with me as the attacker a little more, right Granger?"

Hermione opened and closed her mouth, not wanting to let the Slytherin get a rise out of her, but not having any interest in practicing the spell with him any more. Remus wore a look of surprise at the revelation that Hermione had not been successful.

"Actually, Professor, it seems like some of the wand movements were lost on me. I think I need a little help before practicing again. Would you mind going over them with me?" Hermione asked.

Remus nodded, telling Robin Zlor that he could get started on his homework. He gestured towards his desk, and Hermione followed him. Hearing her say she was unable to perform the spell made him a little nervous. Playing dumb and acting up to get extra time with a professor were the games played by crushing schoolgirl. As he leaned against his desk, he watched Hermione, unsure what to expect.

"I cast the spell on my fist try," she explained hastily, "only he waited about five seconds before hitting me with the hex, so I didn't have time to disarm him."

"Ah," Remus said, "that makes more sense."

"I just did not want to spend more time at his mercy."

"Of course," Remus hesitated, "Should I take some points from Slytherin?"

"I think that would only further instigate their tormenting," Hermione sighed, "probably the best thing is to ignore it for now." Hermione hopped up on a desk, and Remus tried not to notice her skirt riding up to expose a few inches of her milky thighs, and especially tried not to remember what she had been doing the last time he had seen her sitting on a desk.

"Oh, I just remembered, I have a question for you," she turned pointing her wand at her book bag on the other side and summoning it over, deftly getting it to avoid hitting any students. She opened her bag quickly, and tore off a little fluff from a quill inside. It floated down, landing on her upper thigh. Without thinking, Remus reached down to brush it off.

Hermione was still digging through her bag when she felt Remus' warm hand touch her leg. It stayed there just a little longer than it should have, and the locked eyes for a moment. She bit her lip, and looked away, resuming the search in her bag before pulling out a book.

"This paragraph here," she said, opening the book to a tagged page, "it says that you can use someone else's knowledge of a location to apparate there. Do you have any experience with this?"

"Sure, it's not too complicated," he answered, "The main difference is that you really need to be able to picture the location respective to yours mentally."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if right now I wanted you to apparate to a small town in, say, France, it would be important for you to know its exact location, south of here. It would be important that you be able to visualize exact distances and even be able to visualize buildings. "

"But if someone was really able to tell you exactly where to apparate, only based off the location, not the visuals?"

"You would need a very distinct location," answered Remus, " but it should be possible. The main thing is that you would need to have be aware of your current location, so that you would know where to apparate in relation."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, say I told you to apparate to my bedroom," Remus paused, realizing the implications of that statement, but carrying on, "with no knowledge of where it was, you would be unable to do so. But if I told you to apparate into the room behind this wall—"

"Then I would be able to do it, even though I had never been there!" Hermione smiled, putting away her book. She tapped a finger to her chin thoughtfully. "Thank you for your help, Professor."

The class dismissed for lunch. Hermione grabbed a quick bite before heading to he library, deciding to get some work done early if she was going to be leaving the castle with Charlie. Hermione had always loved learning, something that had not changed with time. However, the amount of time she had spent in the library during her time at Hogwarts was not entirely due to her scholarly passions. Interacting with others had always been hard—kids bonded partly over things like complaining about rules and homework, and Hermione had never been one to take part in those activities. The students had, as Ron had suggested, tended to see her more as one of the teachers than one of the students, so when she was around, they did not feel as comfortable acting like normal teenagers, worried she would tattletale.

Most of them, especially Harry and Ron, never said anything to make her feel uncomfortable, but she had always been able to sense the undercurrents. It had been a source of stress, and so instead of trying to hang out, she often retreated to the library, to the domain of things she could understand.

It had become somewhat of a cycle, since the more time she spent isolated, the more the other students did not view her as one of them, which led to her feeling awkward and spending yet more time by herself. After the war had ended, she found out that Harry, Ron, Ginny, had been going to a local pub on the weekends without her.

They refused to admit it, even to themselves, but the truth was that they had thought that Hermione's presence would put a damper on the fun-having, somehow. When they had invited her the next week, ("We can't _believe_ we never thought to invite you before, 'Mione! We'd _love_ to have you join.") the evening started out awkwardly, but after Hermione'd had a few drinks, something subtle shifted. It was hard to pinpoint exactly, but from then on, Hermione suddenly found herself receiving many more invitations to similar gatherings.

Her interest in schoolwork had not waned, but she the experiments with being social in a new way were distracting. For the first time in her life, she was having to remind herself to do homework, instead of simply having it be the first thing she started on. It was strange, but not an entirely unwelcome change.

Before the next class, Hermione managed to finish her revision of an essay due the next day in potions, and she gathered her belongings, putting frustrations like Robin Zlor out of her mind, and looking forward to chatting with Charlie that evening.

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_A/N: Reviews = loveliness._


	9. Chapter 9

"So, you're a sex maniac?" Charlie goaded, pushing a shot of firewhiskey towards Hermione. She had already had three drinks and she had classes the next day, and she'd had a few drinks last night too- Hermione was dealing with a complex mix of emotions. She felt guilty for not performing her Head Girl duties as she felt she should be, she felt (although she would never admit it) childishly giddy that she was getting the chance to act irresponsible and have fun, but she also felt ashamed that she had been acting so wildly. If Ron had the emotional range of a teaspoon, Hermione felt that right now she was experiencing an emotional range of a bathtub.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," Hermione responded, doing her best to play dumb.

"You're a shit liar, Granger," Charlie smiled, "you talk, or you drink," motioning his head at the firewhisky, "your choice."

Hermione wordlessly picked up the shot of firewhisky, and tried to toss it back nonchalantly, failing miserably. As she coughed and spluttered, Charlie smiled to himself. His current tactic was to keep pressing her until was drunk enough to talk- he'd waited until she'd had a few drinks of her own volition before starting, as she would have caught on to his idea quickly otherwise.

He usually would have felt guilty about getting a twenty-year old girl drunk, but Ron and Harry had specifically encouraged him to get her out of her shell… Besides, his intentions were pure, and he was making sure to keep an eye on his own alcohol intake so that he would be able to safely guide her back to the castle, so he figured he was well within the limits of proper behavior. Yes_, _it's _possible_ Ron and Harry had not specifically been thinking of getting her to talk about sex when the mentioned "getting out of her shell," but what they didn't know couldn't hurt them, he reasoned.

They vaguely chatted about a new use someone had found for dragon hide for a few minutes before Charlie tried his luck with another choice: talk or shot. After Hermione had swallowed the burning liquid, her ears perked up, as one of the wizards in the pub had turned on and amplified his radio, and a tune had started to fill the air. Tables were cleared from the center with a few quick charms, and after some chanting Madame Rosmerta had come out from behind the bar to dance to the music.

The barmaid's long, full red skirt swished back and forth as she stepped about, raising her hem to reveal her boots as she tapped her feet around her in a rhythmic pattern. The quiet and half-full pub and suddenly transformed into a loud, jolly atmosphere with the addition of the music, and the random assortment of patrons were all smiling and clapping as the enjoyed the music and dance.

As the song changed to one Hermione recognized, she impulsively stood up to dance. Giving Charlie a questioning look, she slipped out of the booth.

"I don't really dance," he smiled, but stood up anyway. Holding on to his drink and slipping out of the booth after the slim brunette, he leaned back against a pillar, his back to the rest of the crowd. Hermione stood in front of him, moving with the music.

She was staring up at him with big brown eyes, in just the right position to give him a nice line of sight down her shirt. He took a long sip from his drink, not pulling his eyes away from her body.

Sure, she was his brother's mate, but she had matured into a gorgeous woman. She licked her pink lips, and he was reminded of her comment from the night before, and his determination to get her to spill was renewed. As she began to put her hips to his, swaying and reaching for his hand, Charlie had to restrain himself for flipping her around and pushing her between him and the pillar.

It was the alcohol flowing through her veins that made her small hand grab his, pulling it towards her to place it on her hip, but the alcohol was not enough to dull the pain of rejection when he pulled his hand out of her grasp and away from her body.

"Hell if you're not something to look at, love," Charlie said, his voice gruff, "but I can't touch you like that, Ron would kill me."

Hermione stared at him briefly, slack-jawed, before whirling around and throwing back one of the shots of firewhisky they had left at the table. An already empty glass tipped over from the force of slamming hers down. Charlie slid into the booth across from her apprehensively, and heard her grumble something about "men and their not touching."

"I never heard Lavender complain about men not touching her!" Hermione pouted, "and yet here I am…" She trailed off, realizing her surroundings- as buzzy as her head felt, she wasn't drunk enough to go on about her going-ons with her professor in the middle of the Three Broomsticks, "I'm just saying, is there something I'm doing wrong?"

Charlie was flabbergasted. One of the most attractive women he knew was standing in front of him, asking him why she couldn't attract men. He realized that, of course, Hermione was not the typical sort of attractive- she rarely wore makeup in the same way other girls seemed to, and she didn't flirt in that confident way that girls like Lavender or Madame Rosmerta did- in fact, she quite nearly put off a demeanor of never having heard of sex, let alone being open to participate in it. But he supposed that was wherein her attractiveness lay- her sexuality (_because Merlin, was she sexual_) did not seem like something learned, but rather something innate, that just needed to be unearthed by the right man.

That was where she managed to make people so infatuated with her, Charlie figured. Men felt like she was Excalibur- successfully unleashing her sensuality would mean that, like King Arthur had proved his royal blood, they would prove their masculinity_. _Charlie, of course, considered himself to be above such basic nonsense… And yet, her wide-eyed questioning of "what she was doing wrong" made him want to rip her clothes off and help her understand how much she was doing _just right. _Still, a self-esteem that was too low was attractive on no-one, and Charlie decided that it was his responsibility to set her right.

"Love, I consider myself an exceptionally disciplined man- I'm not sure who else had the self-control to keep themselves from touching you, but let me tell you that I would assume that they had a very pressing reason to do so," he reached his calloused hand across the table and wrapped it around her wrist as she drew it away, "stop selling yourself short."

As Hermione slumped in her seat, pouring herself another shot of firewhiskey without Charlie noticing, the dragon trainer's mind wandered onto the thought of who the pretty witch could have been referencing when she mentioned another man not touching her. His mind suddenly latched on to the brief conversation he'd had with her over lunch, and remembered her mentioning an unrequited crush on Remus Lupin.

For the umpteenth time in the short week he'd interacted with Hermione Granger, she had surprised him. Yes, he had been surprised to learn about her interest in Professor Lupin. And, yes, he had surprisingly learned about her interest in sex. But it had never occurred to him that the shy teacher's pet would ever participate or initiate something with her professor.

He had to say he was impressed. There had never been a professor that had caught his fancy, but when he was a Second Year and the Head Girl had caught him sneaking out past curfew, he had spent a better part of the rest of the year fantasizing about "getting disciplined." He had never worked up the courage to say anything- being so young, it would have been unlikely to have been successful at any rate- so although Hermione was in somewhat of a different situation than he had been in, he was proud of her boldness.

"Why 're you looking at me funny?" asked Hermione.

"Talk," Charlie smiled, "S'no more firewhisky anyhow, so you can't do another shot to get out of it."

Hermione's mouth opened and closed, unsure of herself. There was a babble of words edging their way out of her mouth, and the latest shot of firewhisky had hit her hard enough to see no reason to prevent her ramble from spilling out in front of Charlie.

"T'was all Ronald's fault," she mumbled, "he told me I was a pretentious twit, and my outfit was too small, so when Professor Lupin looked at me, I really couldn't help it." She broke off, sobering up slightly. _Don't give away the details, _she told herself, _don't get Lupin in trouble. _"In any case, I've rather thrown myself at him, to no avail. And now, I feel like quite the fool."

Charlie guiltily decided to help Hermione back up to her room in Hogwarts. While he had succeeded in getting her drunk enough to spill her story, she had also been too drunk to be coherent, and on the whole, he was not too sure if it had been a net gain or a net loss.

"Do you want to change into your pyjamas?" he inquired, "I'll lay them out for you."

"Please do," she said, "I do hate waking up in the same clothes as the night before," as she flopped onto her bed with her eyes closed. Charlie stood with his back to her as she pulled off her shirt and bra to switch into a nightgown.

"I really do think about sex too much," Hermione whispered, "like when we're talking…"

Charlie swallowed, and unwillingly, his eyes flitted over to the mirror on her door that was positioned perfectly for him to observe her changing. As guilty as Charlie felt, it was difficult for him to feel bad as she paused to play with her heavy, perky breasts as she twisted and observed herself in the mirror as well. He tried to pull his eyes away from the unaware Hermione, but the combination of her words with her motions made the task impossible.

"It's bloody awful. I can barely make it through the day without blushing like a nitwit at a thought that enters my mind of being… well, you know… _entered _from behind in front of the school during dinner, or lunch, or…"

A guttural groan escaped Charlie. The witch in question had begun absentmindedly playing with her nipples, standing in her skimpy panties, blissfully unaware that Charlie was brutally fucking her with his eyes as much as he was desperately trying not to.

"You're supposed to be putting on a nightgown?" he grunted. To his both disappointment and happiness, she simply pulled down her panties as a look of recognition dawned on her face.

"Ah, right, sorry," she giggled, "undressing." She bent over to pick up the nightgown on the bed, and when Charlie fully glimpsed her bare backside, he simultaneously developed a surprisingly painful erection, and turned to escape the room to the safety of his bed, where he could work out his frustrations in peace.

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_A/N: I do realized it has been forever since I've updated. Sorry! Now that the summer has ended, things are going to be rather slower, but I haven't forgotten. I really will say that it's the reviews that got me to work up the energy to write this, so thank you, and please review with any comments you have, positive or negative! I'll do my best to get something new out within the next month. _


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